#that's not at all based in rational thinking but he's over here like 'the mesmerism of language is for girls'

[coquelicoq]

In talking about Chaucer (p. 74), I said that, in general, puns and verbal connections of sound were unimportant and not to be sought out; and now, you will say, I have been using them to explain cruces in Shakespeare. Alas, you have touched on a sore point; this is one of the less reputable aspects of our national poet. A quibble is to Shakespeare [Johnson could not but confess] what luminous vapours are to the traveller; he follows it at all adventures; it is sure to lead him out of his way and sure to engulf him in the mire. It has some malignant power over his mind.... A quibble was for him the fatal Cleopatra for whom he lost the world, and was content to lose it. Nor can I hold out against the Doctor, beyond saying that life ran very high in those days, and that he does not seem to have lost the world so completely after all. It shows lack of decision and will-power, a feminine pleasure in yielding to the mesmerism of language, in getting one's way, if at all, by deceit and flattery, for a poet to be so fearfully susceptible to puns. Many of us could wish the Bard had been more manly in his literary habits, and I am afraid the Sitwells are just as bad.

William Empson, 7 Types of Ambiguity, ch 2 pp 100-101

i'm sorry this is so fucking funny. that pathetic loser shakespeare who loved puns so much it cost him everything, except of course his status as the most famous, most read, most immortal english-language author of all time. but everything else, he lost and it's all because of how weak he was to resist a pun :/ pouring one out for my sad little girly man who could have had it all if only he was better at writing, the thing he is the most famous guy in the world for.

even empson, who disagrees with johnson that shakespeare "lost the world", is like, too bad our favorite poet is susceptible to the thing that made him famous :/ really tragic that the guy whose wordplay we've been talking about for 300 years likes wordplay :///

also i can't get over writing a book about the types of ambiguity and NOT INCLUDING PUNS?? sorry but puns are ambiguous! that's where their juice comes from! imagine liking ambiguity so much you write a book about it but never mention puns except to dunk on them. imagine being a POET and POETRY CRITIC who looks down on sound-based ambiguity! could not be me!!

[zoydraft]

Approachable Hand Disruption

Hand disruption can be intimidating but if you're thoughtful it can enrich gameplay, even for novice players. I'm going to look at a handful of cards, and use them to illustrate some of the impact they can have on an environment, and new players specifically.

Thoughtseize is elegant (almost Pilfer level), but it's not the friendliest to casual players. Hand disruption is a skill-intensive mechanic. It tilts games away from players who don't know how to make the most of it, or who run weaker cards instead, aware of their inability to maximize the card. That 2 life cost can also scare folks away. That's not even getting into the modality of targeting yourself. Yet, I run it anyway. I'll come back to why later.

Full post also available on CubeCobra

Hymn to Tourach was one of the first cards in the Cube Tutor (RIP) Top Cards list that really rubbed me the wrong way as a new player. It wasn't the potential for land denial and subsequent non-games. Cube designers understand that aspect of the card.

I doubt this is a common reaction, but when I saw the word random I asked, "how?" It's a really simple thing, but suddenly I was distracted by the logistics of executing the spell, instead of focusing on the game. It's worse than that, because you aren't the one doing it, you're compelling your opponent to discard. As an enfranchised player it's trivial but when you're still learning you have enough on your mind. Under-defined procedures can add to mental load.

On the other hand, I love Zyym. He's a nightmare for the same reason that I don't like Hymn to Tourach, but there's one huge advantage: he's fun and engaging for both players. I don't believe accessibility needs to be a set of rules, it's more about being tactful in where you make allowances.

Let's compare Kitesail Freebooter, Duress, Virus Beetle, and Mind Rot, ignoring power level. The sorceries make the disruption the entirety of the effect which doubles down on the skill-intensive nature. New players will not play these or will play them poorly. In contrast, the creatures could fit in an environment where having a 1/2 flyer or an artifact that can chump block adds value. These cards offer a gentle on-ramp to hand disruption, where it's not completely boom-or-bust based on your skill level.

The other axis here is that Kitesail Freebooter and Duress are opt-in mechanics. You are deciding to play them and take on the challenge of disrupting your opponents card. Virus Beetle and Mind Rot work the other way, where it's being forced on your opponent. Being hit with a Mind Rot is not nearly as skill-testing as casting Duress, but it's still an effect that players are not electing to try, which can make it less enjoyable.

Where Kitesail Freebooter doesn't shine is the possibility of revealing a hand with all creatures. In a perfect world there would be a variant I could point to that hit any non-land. Mesmeric Fiend and Brain Maggot suffer from having all but useless bodies, and you need to protect them for the effect to persist.

If you're going to miss, you might be happier with Inquisition of Kozilek. I would run this over Duress if I only had one. I don't have a strong sense of why, but I suspect it leads to less feel-bads, maybe related to the expectation that you aren't getting something huge.

After all that you may be surprised that I run Thoughtseize and a whole suite of other hand disruption effects. Partly I'm just rationalizing including cards I like, but I think these cards are important to include because they offer players the opportunity to get better in two specific ways.

The obvious one first: how are you going to get better at hand disruption if you never play hand disruption?

More importantly, I think these cards invite you to learn to play around opponents. You're not obligated to think about the cards that were revealed, but you probably will. The same is true for Gitaxian Probe, and Urza and Mishra's Baubles. Thinking about playing around known information is a good first step towards playing around unknown information. It also pushes players towards trying to understand their opponent's gameplan, and how they can best attack it.

Hand disruption can play an vital role even in beginner-friendly cubes, but it will work better with thoughtful inclusions. It's an important part of Black's colour pie, it's an interesting mechanic, and maybe most importantly: it encourages richer gameplay.

Card of the day? Kitesail Freebooter, no doubt.

[achillieus]

we’re fools (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: for all bucky barnes knows, he hates clichés. and this thing between you two, happens to be the biggest one.

(enemies to lovers trope or i watched the society on netflix recently and based this entirely on harry bingham and cassandra pressman)

pairing: college au!bucky x reader

warnings: alcohol, a lot of sexual references, but also a lot of fluff, bucky and reader are in love, also bucky gets cheesy and he hates it

(other parts)  (masterlist)

part 3/3:

Bucky thinks he fell in love on a Tuesday.

“This year, I’m gonna ask Peggy Carter out.” It’s the first day of their third semester and Steve is putting his black baseball cap in his perfect hair, checking his reflection on his phone screen. One of the freshman girls winks at him and he shyly half smiles.

Usually, Bucky would tease him about it, but now he’s attention is wholly on something else. Someone else.

A girl at the other end of the hall, holding a paper juice box, wearing a gaudy denim dress that stops right before her knees.

He’s certain he hasn’t seen her before and judging by the adrift look on her face he deduces she’s in her first year. Is she pretty? He can’t decide. She’s definitely something. And if he stares at her a bit longer than socially acceptable, well let’s say, it’s completely unintended.

“Buck, did you hear what I said?” Steve says at one point and Bucky isn’t sure for how long he has been lost in her figure.

“Yeah sure.” The girl starts walking at their direction -it must be your lucky day, Bucky-, clutching the golden heart jewel around her neck. She’s looking at the doors, she’s looking at the big campus map they have on the wall. She’s looking everywhere but at him and it’s almost offensive considering the amount of time he spent looking at her.

“I’m sorry,” And then she’s there standing a few steps behind Steve. Almost hidden behind his colossal demeanor. “I can’t seem to find the Admission Office.”

A small nervous laugh escapes her lips and Bucky watches the little wrinkles around her eyes, the subtle blush on her cheeks. She doesn’t look pretty. No. She looks consuming.

“Admission office is on the left, doll”. He replies a little too fast. He had to beat Steve. He had to talk to her.

She smiles at him and somehow, along that smile, Bucky thinks he fell in love. With you.

-

(bucky barnes has been in love with you for 563 days)

-

“Did you just kiss me?”

His voice is barely a whisper and his vision is blurry and it’s weird because suddenly he realizes how scared he’s of you. Of the power you have on him. An alarming craving. Every addiction he can’t control combined. Bucky isn’t afraid of many things, not exactly. But he’s afraid that you’ll take his heart and break it, if you want to. And he’s more afraid that he’ll just allow you to. He wonders, for the split of a second, if you have any idea how everything changed when your lips met his. How something inside of him shifted.

“I’m sorry,” You finally answer and he needs a moment to compose himself, “I’m so sorry I just thought-”

“Shut up, I’d died if you hadn’t kissed me.”

“What?”

It’s innocent and terribly oblivious, the way you ask him that and he half smiles, almost touches your palm before his mind stops racing. Ignores the alcohol in his body. Reminds him that he’s Bucky Barnes, that he’s clever and brilliant and a little bit narcissistic and that he doesn’t do love.  Not anymore. And that people adore him for that. And that he needs to uphold it. At least try to.

“I’m not repeating that soppy thing I said,” He drawls and smirks, his teeth gleaming in the fluorescent light of the hall. He has his mask back on. He’s playing his part again. And then he takes a quick step, opens his door and turns around, swift motions and hard grips and suddenly your spine hits the walls of his room. “But you can repeat that sexy thing you did with your tongue.”

Bucky isn’t stupid. He knows he’d perish and wither in a blast if you asked him to, yet he would never admit that. At least not so fast. And specially not to you. He has built his persona so carefully, wore it like an armor, it has become a second skin.

His chapped lips scratch soft against your neck, his hands play with the end of your dress and you observe the way his orbs are colored darker now. He knows what he’s doing. It’s a show he’s practiced. His touch is sharp, like a razor, cuts through your epidermis, comes close to your veins and the muscles of your heart.

And you’re ready to close your eyes, savor every minute of it, offer yourself like an altar and let him wipe the rationality out of you, but the moment his fingers find the wet silk between your legs there’s pain and your throat dries out instantly.

“Bucky, wait.”

“What’s wrong doll?”

“Can we stop?”

There’s the cruel split of a moment where the anxiety inside of you flares up dangerously and you fill like on the edge of a cliff, like falling and it’s horrible. And then you see his body relax, breathing a sigh of relief and laughing.

“Thank God you asked.”

“Barnes,” you hit him with your elbow, “You’re doing wonders for my self esteem right now!”

“You’re an idiot,” he replies with a grimace, “It’s just that I’m drunk and I prefer if I’m not drunk when we have sex. I want to remember the whole thing.”

A strange sensation tingles somewhere between your ribs and your stomach, something so pure and new, and it raises goosebumps all over you. And you smile at him.

And somehow along that smile, Bucky’s mask starts to fall.

/

Bucky Barnes, you learnt within your first month in college, is a year older than you, a proud boy that always asks the right questions and always gives the right answers, with charms and wits of a living god.

Bucky Barnes, you learnt the night you kissed him in the narrow aisle, may have a sharp tongue but he also has the sweetest lips, soft and liqueur like.

Bucky Barnes, you learn some days later, doesn’t want many people to know about you two, and sits three tables away during lunch.

/

“Are you embarrassed of me?”

Your mind is racing with dozens of hurtful possibilities, some more or less, and Bucky looks at you, eyes widen and surprised.

“Why would I be embarrassed of you?”

“I don’t know,” you take the tea cup in your hands, drink and stay silent for a while, observe the way he’s fidgeting with his fingers, “Why else would you avoid me whenever there’s someone else but Sam around?”

It takes some time before he walks closer, sits next to you by his bedframe and touches your hand, your skin freezing under his.

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

Your heart almost stops, because Bucky is never scared, and his answer feels strangely heavy and bitter from his lips when he says, “I just don’t want anyone to ruin this.”

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even smirk like he usually does, just stares at you with narrow eyes and a quick breath.

“Bucky, I hate it to break it to you,” you say, a glint of amusement in your voice, “But I don’t think others care that much about us.”

You cup his face in your hands, guide him backwards, his back hitting the pillow and it’s the first time he has no choice but to comply.

“And even if they do,” you breath in, wet your lips and tease the corner of his mouth with your finger, “It’s not our problem.”

Bucky grabs the back of your neck, shifts even closer to you, his heart not missing a beat. And when you kiss him, he smiles. And somehow along that smile, Bucky becomes more of himself.

/

It goes like this;

People read it in his eyes. How his gaze never leaves you even while you’re writing a test and he needs to concentrate, how he looks mesmerized when you braid your hair while scanning the textbook in front of you. How he could find you even in the middle of the biggest crowd.

People see it in your reactions. How your fingers always wrap around his wrist, almost instinctively, before he leaves, and you kiss him one time on the lips, and then one more on the cheek. How your voice changes as soon as he enters the room. How you’d know he’s here even without looking.

You really have to try to be oblivious to love.

/

(text messages between classes)

(10:26 AM) bucky: hey does taylor swift have to be playing in the background when we have sex

(10:27 AM) you: it’s not even noon bucky what the hell

(10:27 AM) bucky: i went through your spotify and APPARENTLY you have a  “🍆🍆🍆” playlist

(10:27 AM) bucky: and it’s just taylor swift and hozier???

(10:27 AM) bucky: who the hell wants to have sex with a taylor swift song playing

(10:28 AM) you: I’m gonna kill you

(10:28 AM) bucky: nah <3

/

It’s surprisingly easy, dating Bucky Barnes, and by the end of the first month, you feel at home, at ease.  He talks a lot, way more than you expected him to, he shares his favorites, the way he always underlines quotes he likes in the books he’s reading or how he never eats anything that has soy in it. He shows you everything about him, not just who he is, but who he’s ever been. And it’s beautiful.

And you observe how he breathes easier now, smiles more. He doesn’t keep his guard up, doesn’t flinch when nobody’s looking at him.

/

He thinks it’s weird.

He thinks it’s weird, because kissing has always been an act of foreplay to him and he never paid much attention, but now, with you, he could spend his whole life kissing you.

But when you start pulling at the buttons of his black expensive shirt, well, it’s not like he’s complaining. He presses his body against yours, his hands almost shaking, his fingers burying in your hair, slowly tugging.

“Bucky,” You breath in his neck, “I may be bad at this.”

“What?” He whispers as he leaves wet trails all the way to your chest.

“I haven’t done this before, so I may be bad at it.”

He stares right at your lips, notices your sweet cherry scent mixing with the sharp notes of his aftershave, touches the spot under your eyes and smiles.

“Guess we’ll have to do it over and over again then.” He’s half laughing, half kissing your shoulder and you can feel your cheeks flush and your entire being tighten.

And then his cold fingertips draw circles on your inner thighs and you close your eyes, and Bucky forgets how to breath.

/

“I probably sound like a fool but, I’m in love with you.”

You didn’t plan on saying it that early, but he’s here, warm and glistening and in your arms and you can’t go another minute without hearing the words out loud.

“And I probably sound competitive but, I’ve been in love with you since God knows when.”

/

(AH IT’S FINISHED BUT YAY THEY’RE IN LOVE)

tagging: @tonystankschild @osterfieldshollandgirl​ @roguesthetic @buckyjms​ @ohladymacbeth​

[lillifaba]

Prize From My Heart: A Liir/Trism drabble

Liir has a gift for Trism.

Late? What do you mean I’m late to Pride month? 

A short spin off drabble for the end of Pride month for Liir/Trism in my Modern College AU! (unestablished relationship, mutual pining) Based off of this prompt. Enjoy and hope you all had a wonderful Pride! (unbeta’d)

                                                       ≪ ◦ ❖ ◦ ≫

Liir struggled to open the door to his room while holding the obnoxiously huge, stuffed dragon plushie under his arm. His common sense was telling him to just put the damn thing on the floor but he wasn’t going to put something that could easily get dirty on the filthy ground. 

Finally, he managed to shove his key in and open the door, nearly toppling over on his way in.

Trism, unmoved and unbothered, sat at his desk, legs propped up and crossed at the ankles as he read from his Life Sciences textbook with his earpods in.

“Trism?” Liir called. “You were sitting here this whole time and didn’t hear me struggling outside?”

“You made it indoors, didn’t you?” Trism nonchalantly sipped tea from his mug, not sparing a glance at him.

“Gee, thanks…” Liir huffed. 

He dropped the stuffed toy on his bed, collapsing beside it. Trism happened to look up, then removed his earpods in befuddlement.

“What in Oz’s name is that?”

“Huh?” Liir sat up in confusion, then pointed to the toy. “Oh, this thing?” “No, the house that landed on top of you. Yes, that thing.”

“Oh!” Liir chortled in slight embarrassment. “Me and Nor went to the arcade after work and I got this from the claw machine on the first try.”

The Blond blinked in disbelief. “And just where do you expect to store that thing? We need all the space we can get in a two hundred and fifty square foot room.”

Liir sat there, blank faced. He clearly had not thought this through. 

“Uh, I’ll find a spot.”

“Where? I’m not moving my belongings around for you to start building a toy chest. Just bring it to your parent’s house.”

“I can’t exactly take it back home with me, Killyjoy will eat it up in a clock tick.”

Trism sighed, lowering his legs from the desk. “Then what do you intend to do with it?” 

“Well,” Liir fidgeted with the cutesyfied toy in his lap. “I was thinking about giving it to you.”

Trism stared at him, speechless. “... You wanted to give me a child’s toy.”

“An early Lurlinemas gift,” Liir beamed. “Merry early Lurlinemas.”

“It’s April.” 

Liir’s cheeks reddened. “Well, if you don’t want it I’ll just give it to Candle-”

Trism’s eye slightly twitched as a wave of irrational jealousy hit him. “Don’t you dare.”

Liir looked up in surprise. Even Trism was taken aback at how brash he sounded.

“I mean-” He recomposed his voice. “I’ll take it. Thank you.”

He gathered the oversized toy in his arms. It was by no means heavy, but the sheer size of the thing was disorienting. Liir watched in childish glee as Trism placed it on his bed. 

“I’m so happy you like it! The moment I saw it, I thought of you.”

“You saw a stuffed dragon and thought of me?” Trism raised a brow.

“No, no! That’s not what I meant,” Liir scratched the nape of his neck. “It’s kinda hard to explain, but it’s got to do with your voice.”

“You’re losing me, Tiggular.”

Liir grew flustered. Trism wasn't deliberately grilling him for the reason that he secretly enjoyed seeing him in such a state. At least that was how he was rationalizing it in his head.

“W-what I mean to say is, you have this voice… that’s really mesmerizing, smooth enough to woo a dragon to sleep–If that makes sense. I thought this was a fitting gift to… express my sentiments.”

His entire face was as red as a Quadling apple. Trism stood there, still blankly staring at him. He wasn’t sure if this boy was a brainless fool, or an endearing child. 

Perhaps a bit of both. 

He closed the space between them and wrapped his arms around him in an embrace.

“Thank you for such a kind gift.”

Liir stiffened in surprise at the sudden affection from his stoic roommate, but eagerly returned the hug, tucking his head under Trism’s chin.

Trism certainly did not feel his heart skip a beat when Liir seemingly nuzzled against him. 

“You’re welcome.”

They stayed there, the heat radiating between their bodies. Trism subtly inhaled the scent of Liir’s raven hair: Scents of amber spice, cardamom, and the slightest hint of roasted coffee from the cafe he worked in. His fingers carded through his soft, silky waves, pulling him in closer. 

He wondered if Liir could feel the beating of his heart- or was that his heart he was feeling?

Liir pulled away much too soon for Trism’s liking. His vibrant emerald eyes glittered in the setting sun seeping in through the window. He offered him a small smile. 

“Well, um,” Trism cleared his throat. “I’ve got to get back to work.” “Oh, right,” Liir chuckled. “I’ll get out of your way then.”

Trism nodded as Liir excused himself and grabbed his laptop from his bag to start working on his assignments. The Gillikin tried to immerse himself back in his studies, but with Liir locked in the same room as him, he found it too difficult to focus. 

He got up, grabbing his pack of cigarettes from his crossbody bag. Liir looked up in alarm.

“I’m going to step out for a smoke. I’ll be back.”

“Ah, okay,” Liir smiled. “Be safe.” Trism quickly nodded and left the room at a fast pace. His long legs carried him outside to the entrance of the Gentlemen’s Dormitories. He lit up a cigarette and tried to clear his mind. The spring breeze whipped against his golden hair and the exposed skin on his arms. He shivered.

It’s just the cold, he told himself.  

Eventually, he’d have to go back to the dorm, where Liir would still be, sitting on his bed typing away at his keyboard or distracting himself with online videos. The silence would be unbearable until it was lights out and then they would have to deal with a more deafening silence between them until one of them fell asleep first. 

Trism longed to say something. The outer shell he built was not reflective of how he felt towards his Liir.

If he kept being so remote, Liir would find better company with the likes of the Quadling girl. 

He exhaled the last of his smoke and stubbed out the cigarette against the brick exterior, flicking it to the side and retreating to the warm confines of the building.

                                                       ≪ ◦ ❖ ◦ ≫

I hope you liked this short drabble! I’m always late for fic specific holidays and I kind of wrote this last minute so excuse the grammatical errors lol ;; I’m also still getting used to writing these characters. I do plan on writing a fully fleshed out modern College AU for Liir/Trism hopefully after I finish the current fic I’m still writing but in the meantime this is a sense of what my AU will be like ^^ I’m probably going to get an art commission of this scene soon~

Blank I hope you’re happy hehe~

[heli0s-writes]

crystalline*

A/N: Instead of attending to the rest of my WIPS, here’s 1.6k words of Bottom Bucky and Service Dom reader. Throatfucking. Erm. Cathartic crying. 

Warnings: Bucky working out trauma. Please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn after dark masterlist

You teach him how to want things again.

His pieces from the past, the joys he used to have taken too soon— you tell him he can have it all back.

It started with food, predictably. No longer being tube-fed slurry, Bucky quickly embarked on discovering all the new flavors of the 21st century.

Chocolate alone was a month-long passion as he attempted to scrub out the standard issued combat rations haunting his tongue. Chalky cuts like cold pressed gravel— fuck that. The first time you broke off a square of unroasted, dark, sprinkled with Himalayan sea salt chocolate, Bucky’s head hit the back of the couch with a pathetic mewl and a million things rushed through his mind of all the ways he could keep feeling this good.

Sleep came next— something he thought he’d had enough of, but the difference between getting perma-frosted every decade and lying face down in whatever memory foam’s made out of is lifetimes apart.

Bubble baths. Streaming apps. Nice clothes.

Attention and affection. Kisses. Braids in his hair. Tickles for extra laughs. His ego’s in overdrive because he has half a thought about anything and you’re fulfilling it like his personal genie. You say he needs all the dopamine he can get and you’re gonna give it to him.

And you give it to him in spades.

Orgasms. Jesus fucking Christ, he’s spoiled rotten.

Morning sex, afternoon sex, sex before bed. Blindsided in hallways and under conference room tables. The compound pool’s been properly christened more than once, and if Tony ever found out just exactly how many of those precious luxury cars have seen the imprint of Bucky’s ass, he’d set them all on fire.

But, reconciliation comes for him eventually. Spend long enough feeling all good he figures it was about time he starts screwing it up. He turns greedy, he starts wanting for too much. His girl’s an insatiable little beast, but even beasts have limits.

-

Bucky went shy when he asked, stuttering about how it’s okay if you didn’t—if you weren’t—it’s kinda strange— but you’d put your hand over his and tilted his chin up.

“Bucky,” you said fondly, “Baby,” and then a sweet smile curled over your pretty pink lips like spun sugar, “I’d eat your ass like a five-course meal. I’ll let you fuck me on the moon. What is it, huh?”

He could’ve kissed your dirty mouth silly.

“I want you to use a toy—"

“We do all the time.”

“—on me.”

And that sweet candy pink smile turned red hot and wicked. No limit in sight.

-

You approach the bed like a fever dream and all the blood in Bucky’s body congregates south.

Nothing on but the 2-day-shipping-because-the-phone’s-a-genie-too leather harness sitting snugly on your hips and a grin. The heaviness between your thighs hangs like both an offering and a weapon.

He asked for it. He wanted it. Just—maybe, to start— can you be rough with him. Then, stuttering once more because he doesn’t know how to justify why. It doesn’t make any sense and it’s hard to say out loud that with all the things you let him have, that after nearly a century of being out of his own body, he… wants to give it away.

He’s messed up, baby. Sick down to his rotten core.

You only shushed him. If it’ll make you happy, I’ll rough you up real fucking good. No why’s necessary.

Fleshy weight brushes against your inner thigh, swinging idly from one side to the other. “This okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, still dressed at the edge of the mattress, skin beginning to prickle, nerves taking a hard left into arousal. When your hand finds rough landing in his hair, he thinks he must be the luckiest bastard in the entire world.  

Bucky drops on his knees like dead weight, nearly tearing off his clothes, feeling the upsurge of heat in his cheeks and chest. His eyelids are fluttering, your face going fuzzy but he can still see that look of adoration you reserve for him.

He’s pondering if that old saying is true—if there can be too much of a good thing, if he’s become spoiled sick, or if he could overdose on pleasure when you start thumbing the edge of his mouth.

“Pay attention,” you say with a glimmer in your eyes. “Open.”

He’s tingling when you put two fingers in, moving around his tongue, scissoring them against his inner cheek. They explore for a while, bolder each passing second. He can tell you’re getting excited too, your chest heaving gradually, watching him with curious intent.

“You like this?” You ask, lip between your teeth, and Bucky nods, leaning further in, spit following the path of your hand down to his neck. You palm the cock like it’s always belonged to your body and he’s mesmerized at how it rises from your grip, moving over his face to rest on his cheek.

“It’s big, baby.” You warn, full on now. You stroke the outline of his jaw with it, leaving a burning path in its wake. “You sure?”

He quietly likes that you ask—honey-toned and patient, needing to hear it, knowing that he needs to hear it from himself. All those things he’d been made to say with his body and not with his mind.

Now he gets it back, as you said. Gets a part of himself back, too.

“Yes—ah—yes.”

Bucky’s words are slurred into your hand, but he’s begging with his eyes. Yes. I want it. Please let me. Please make me. Please fix me.

You replace your fingers, sluicing up the cock with his spit. Then, you fuck his mouth slow, feeding it to him inch by inch before dragging it away. Bucky’s lips are quivering for more, jaw slack, panting hoarsely. He feels overcome at how you stand over him, mesmerized by him, too.

“Yeah, honey,” you croon, and Bucky’s heart swells with pride. “You’re doing so well, pretty boy.”

He’s licking blindly and sucking between ragged gasps when he attempts to say your name, knowing full well he’ll never get the whole word out before you wedge back into him. And god, it’s hot. It’s dirty and filthy and so fucking sweet.

You grasp the base of his skull, keeping his head still and laying into his mouth rhythmically. The cockhead hits Bucky’s throat, pushing into the soft palate, reaching further. His eyes are rolling, whimpers catching where the toy ends, caught in the breath of air in his mouth.

“Take it, baby,” you command, and Bucky gags. One hand scrambles for your thigh, other clawing his own, pressing red crescents into the flesh. It hurts. It hurts good like it never did before and Bucky chokes it down, eyes squeezed shut now, tears prickling from the ducts and collecting at the corners.

“Oh, you’re so good,” and his body just keeps lighting up. “You good boy. You perfect, perfect boy.” And he’s nodding desperately, needy, gut coiled tight like a spring.

“So fucking dirty,” you hiss, pulling hard on his hair, “Look at you— leaking all over yourself.”

He is. He’s a goddamn mess, sticky lines of precome down his shaft and collecting at his base.

“Drooling all over my cock like this. You’re hungry for it, aren’t you?”

“Uhhngg— hnnng—” He moans weakly at the things you do to him and for him.

“That’s right, you are. Keep going, show me how much you want it.” Jesus, the way you make him feel— like he could be exactly who he is and never have to apologize for a goddamn thing. Broken and ruined but you’d still give him the whole fucking world.

The noises Bucky’s making are muffled and obscene as he fists himself, shuddering and pumping erratically. One more final drive from your hips and he’s bursting at the seams, shattering to pieces, coming with a strangled cry.

You don’t let up, taking his throat unrelentingly, watching him sob and fall apart. He’s going limp in your clutch, letting his eyes well up like pools, your smiling face so beautiful in the crystalline light.

If he’s sick, then you must be the fever he can’t sweat out. The fire burning through his bones until he’s nothing but smoldering bits of debris afterwards. Grains and soot of him floating in the steady flow of your faithful current.

When he’s made a perfect mess of himself, come-covered and quivering, you finally let him breathe again, pulling out wetly.

“There you go,” you say, kneeling to kiss his panting mouth, “Did that feel good?” 

Your lips are a cool balm on his swollen ones and Bucky hums a response, body still thrumming. “Yeah,” he sighs, sensitive like a wound, raw and open and tender. “Real— good.”

You rub his back and run your fingers through his hair, letting him rest in your arms. You wipe away the tears on his cheeks and over his trembling eyelids.

Gentle words tumble from your lips. Promises of love and of good memories to replace the bad ones. More kisses. More affection. More reclamation.

All those little granules of fractured time, you collect in the soft surrender of his mouth. Wet and salty, they fall together there, and Bucky feels himself clicking into place. Perfect and whole and treasured like an iridescent pearl.

[barnesbabee]

Welcome, to The Club || J.W

Summary: What secrets do the quiet ones keep? 

Pairing: Jeong Wooyoung x Reader

Words: Oh so many

Genre: Smut

⚠ degradation, name-calling, spanking, choking, praise kink ⚠

A/N: I was writing the pornstar!au version for wooyoung and this idea popped into mind and I was like oh??? Enjoy 💖

 No one knew about it... No one but the ones included. And you wouldn't know you were included until you received a pretty, pearl-coloured envelope with your name written in cursive on the back of it, in black. 

   It had somehow dropped out from the middle of your books once you got home and settled them down on your counter. It flew away and settled down on the floor. You cocked your head and furrowed your eyebrows, looking at it confusedly.

    'Y/N'

   It clearly was meant for you to read, or else your name wouldn't be on the back...

   You picked it up and examined it for a second, before reaching for a knife and ripping it open. There wasn't much inside, there was barely anything. Just a black card, written on with white text with an address and a time plastered on it. No other text or information... You looked inside the envelope to make sure you hadn't left anything there and alas, inside it there was a piece of black fabric. You picked it up and inspected it, rolling it between your fingers. It was made of lace entirely, and it had the shape of a mask. You looked at it for a second before tying it around your head. You inspected your image in the bathroom's mirror. Who sent you that invite? What was it for? A masquerade ball perhaps?  

  Since there was no date on it you'd just assumed it was on that day, which made you even more confused. Why was it on such short notice? Did they forget to invite you previously or?... 

  You gave it some thought. What did you have to lose anyway? You weren't proud of it but you weren't a very... safe person. If it seemed interesting you immediately jumped on it, not giving it further consideration or even thinking about the risks. 

 The mask especially interested you... Carnival was long gone and the way it was sensually designed made you curious about what kind of even it was. You jumped in the shower, excited to see where the address would take you.   The shower was as quick as possible, since you only about two hours and a half, and your destination was quite far.

  You slapped on a red lipstick and some contour, before curling your hair slightly. The voluptuous waves definitely gave your look the intense and intimate touch it lacked. 

  It took you no longer than ten minutes to find a dress you thought would suit the occasion: a tight, off shoulder, v-neck black dress with a tight pencil skirt. You didn't want to wear something too flashy, only God knew what was about to happen...

  You grabbed your black glitter stilettos and stuffed the mask and the invitation inside whatever small purse was lying around, ready to leave.

   When you stepped outside, the cold air hit your legs and exposed arms, and immediately the idea of walking there flushed down the drain. You waved your hand, signaling the taxi passing by that you needed a ride, and he pulled over.

   "Where to miss?" He asked when you settled in the backseat, eyeing your Thursday night dress choice questioningly.

   You fiddled with the items inside your small bag until you found the black note, and read the address aloud to the male driver. He nodded and started moving the car. 

   Your leg bounced as you approached the destination, with no clue in what to expect. 

   "Here it is."

   You looked outside of the window and looked at the building. It looked... abandoned. It looked like it would crumble down at any second and you were honestly confused.

   "Um... Thank you." You thanked and handed the driver the money shown on the small screen.

   As soon as you exited the car you felt fear and worry wash over you. What the fuck had you done!? What made you think this was a good idea!? 

  You looked at the building, and at the piece of paper in your hands. It was the right address... 

  You hurriedly grabbed the laced mask from your bag and wrapped it around your head. 

  The steps you took towards the gated door were wary and careful, almost as if something would jump out at you if you weren't careful. Your finger rang the doorbell, almost expecting it to not work, but a loud 'ding dong' echoed inside. A small rectangular hatch opened in the middle of the door. You rationalized a little and realized that they were probably asking for the invitation, to confirm you weren't an unwanted outsider.

   You slid the thick, black paper through the opening and it immediately closed shut.

   A second passed and you heard an unlocking sound coming from the inside, and before you knew it, you were being welcomed by a buff man and a tall woman, whose faces were totally covered by white masks.

  "Welcome, to The Club." The woman said.

  She took your purse and set it down along with the coats and purses of what you assumed belonged to the other guests.

   You walked in slowly, looking around at the scenario. It was a long hallway, with about five dark wood doors on each side, and a big black door by the end of it. 

   You squinted your eyes. The inside of the house looked luxurious, you wondered why it looked so beat up from the outside...

  There was some noise coming from behind the door, and you assumed that's where you were supposed to go. You stepped towards it, and as you turned the handle and opened it, your eyes immediately widened.

  Before your eyes was a luxurious salon. The floor was made of dark brown marble, the walls had an exquisite bordeaux wallpaper and the windows (that were at least 4 meters tall) were covered by brown and golden curtains. You were mesmerized by the gigantic chandelier hanging beside the enormous staircase.

   You were a little intimidated by the atmosphere, and you didn't quite know what to do. There were men and women, seemingly wealthy from the way they handled themselves, sitting in big chairs and sofas chatting away as expensive drinks were handed to them. It seemed as if each of them had a toy: another person taking care of them. Whether it was actually fucking, giving them head or just providing them attention, every person in the room was accompanied, and you felt very out of place...

   At least you did have something in common. Everyone had a mask covering their face, whether it was a full face, or just half, decorated or plain, complex or simple, everyone had a unique way to hide their features.

   All of the talking, moaning and dirty sounds stopped and all eyes turned to you.    Whispers echoed around the room and you became flushed with all of the attention, not knowing what to do. 

   "I understand my guest has arrived?"

   A voice spoke from the top of the stairs and all of the ruckus stopped once more. All of the people looked at the man standing tall above all, and he chuckled. 

  He looked at you, and an overwhelming sense of fear and discomfort spread through your body.

  All pairs of eyes followed the seemingly important man's movements, as he stepped towards you. You kept your incredulous face while he kept his smirk.    When he was just a couple centimeters away from you, he could see your blush, even with the dim lights.

  The man was wearing a mask just like yours, the first identical pair in the room you had seen. His blonde hair was neatly swept back and he wore an expensive-looking suit.

   He extended his hand and said in a very husky, familiar voice.

  "Shall we go somewhere more private? I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable during your first time."

  You swallowed thickly and reluctantly took his hand. You weren't thinking of anything when you followed the man, you only hoped to escape the lingering eyes of the strangers.

   He took you upstairs and into a big room, with nothing but a bed, a sofa, and a big wardrobe. The bed was huge, and had transparent curtains around it.

  The man's back faced you.

  "Who are you?" 

  You thought you should at least know, since you apparently were his guest. His fingers reached for his mask and he removed it, tossing it aside.

  "I guess there's no use keeping this, you'll recognize me eventually."

 He turned around, and you gasped at the sight. 

 He licked his lower lip and trapped it between his lip as you looked at him from head to toe.

  It was unbelievable.

 Jung Wooyung, the quiet kid that always sat on the front row, the class president that always volunteered to help teachers, the goofy, nerdy kid that always avoided girl's gazes... He stood proudly in front of you, looking like candy and practically eye-fucking you.

  "Wooyoung?..." You asked, still in hopes you were wrong.

  It was too unbelievable...

 He stepped towards you and placed his hand on your hip, pulling you closer to him.

  His finger hooked around the bow that held your mask and he undid it.

  "Since we're alone you don't need this, do we?"

  You shook your head lightly and allowed him to toss it somewhere.

  "Wooyoung what the fuck is going on?" You asked and exhaled deeply.

  He hummed and squeezed your sides.

  "Exactly what you see. I run a club for rich people to drink and have a good time. Their guests are unknown people assigned to them based on their preferences. Except for you of course, I had to get you here..." His hand moved to your ass, giving it a squeeze "You tease me so much with that body... You don't even know. I love every single curve you have, and I didn't want to get you in this mess, but I just couldn't help myself, I had to fuck you."

  Your eyes widened, and he chuckled at the reaction. You had no words for what he had just said...

  "But why?" You asked, confused as to why he'd do this.

  "Because the outside is just so boring... I needed a little something. And this" He gestured around the room "is��my little something."

  There was a long silence. There was no possible response to that...

   "Of course I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Once you're in, you're in for good. You have the chance to walk out now and never come back." He smirked and leaned closer to your ear, so he could whisper to you "But you don't want that, do you? You love the thrill... That's why you accepted the invitation. That's why you put on this slutty dress and came here not even knowing who had sent you the mask."

   You shivered under his touch and you felt the urge to succumb to whatever he wished. 

   His hands settled on the bottom of your skirt and started lifting it, slowly. 

   "Now is your chance pretty baby, when I take this off, there's no going back.”

   You didn't give it much thought. You also wanted to feel the little something he talked about. 

   You pulled his hands away and his face fell for a second, thinking that you would actually back out.

You had other plans, however. Your fingers hooked around the hem of your dress and pulled it over your head, allowing the cloth to pool around your feet. You stepped closer to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, as your fingers played with the hairs on his nape.

   "I guess there's no going back now."

   Wooyoung smirked and his lips moved to your neck, kissing and licking it softly.

   "I knew I made the right choice." He whispered against your skin.

  You hissed and cocked your head to the side slightly, giving him all the access he wanted.

   Wooyoung's fingers played with the sides of your panties, playing with them around his fingers, and snapping the material against the skin of your hip.

   As he worked on leaving marks around your neck, your hands stripped him from his fancy jacket and started unbuttoning his grey silk dress shirt, exposing his chest and toned arms. 

   Your hand caressed his skin as it traveled down his body, ready to palm him through his clothes, however when your hands reached his belt, he grabbed your wrist and pulled away from your neck, to look you in the eye.

  "You're my gest doll, I should treat you accordingly."

  His hand swiftly reached for your back and unhooked your bra, removing it completely do he could look at your breasts bouncing free from the material.   He then picked you up, bridal style, and threw you on the large bed. 

 You could feel how comfortable and soft the sheets were the second your skin came into contact with the material.

  Your eyes darted to Wooyoung. He took off his belt and placed it on the nightstand, followed by his pants that he threw near his jacket.

   He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists above your head, holding them down with one hand only. 

   His fingers found their way inside your underwear and began teasingly playing with your clit.

   The male looked down, seeing how you squirmed under his touch.

   "Hmm, just as I thought, you look even more beautiful like this..." 

   You moaned at the comment and rolled your hips, wanting to get more contact.

    "Tsk, so needy... You want more? Hm?" He asked, with a low chuckle.

    "Y-yes, please, I need more." 

    Wooyoung hissed and his face immediately shifted. He had a feral expression, his eyes were hungry and when he heard your pretty pleads he just wanted to ditch all the foreplay and devour you there and then.

   He slipped two fingers in you, earning a loud moan.

  "Such a slut, begging to be fucked... But you like it, don't you' You like being fucked like a slut."

  You nodded desperately, earning a chuckle.

  Wooyoung removed his fingers and brought them up to his face. You watched as he inserted them in his mouth, licking them clean and tasting every little bit of your juices.

  "You taste so good..." He complimented, as he moved to stand in between your legs "I can't wait to have more of you."

  He gently slipped off your underwear and dipped his head down for his lips to meet your clit. You gripped his hair and your mouth fell agape when he started sucking on your sensitive bud.

   His tongue flattened against your pussy, licking long stripes along it, and entering your hole occasionally, leaving no corner of your womanhood unexplored.

   "Oh my God- Wooyoung you're so good-"

   He pulled away from your cunt and slapped your thigh. His face was now level with yours and he gripped your jaw with one hand.

   "Never say my name inside these walls, I am unknown to them, understood doll?"

   You didn't dare speak, you just nodded to his words. His fingers fell from your jaw to your neck, applying some pressure around your throat as his lips attacked yours in a violent kiss.

   You could taste yourself in his tongue. He would bite your lip from time to time, making you whimper at the roughness.

   You placed your hand on his hardon and squeezed it, innocently looking him in the eye.

   "Please..." You begged once more.

   Wooyoung cursed under his breath and flipped you around. He slapped your ass, and you lifted it in the air for him. As he removed his underwear, you felt his cock slap against your ass.

   He gripped your ass cheeks harshly and slapped them. When he heard your little whimper at his spanks, he smiled dirtily. 

   "You like this, pretty baby?" He asked.

   "I do..." You muttered shyly. 

   Wooyoung's eyed darted to the belt resting on the bedside table, and he reached for it. He folded it in half, and swung it back, before hitting it against your skin. 

   You moaned loudly and the pleasurable pain you got from the sharp whips.    Your cunt was dripping, and you were clenching only from the abuse he was giving your ass.

    "I can't take it anymore, please, please fuck me!" You yelled between whimper and moans.

   Wooyoung happily obliged and stuffed your tight hole with his cock. He moaned at the tight feeling, and his grasp on your ass grew.

   "You feel so good around me, fuck..."

   He started moving, and as time went by the sound of your hips smashing against each other grew louder. One of Wooyoung's hands left your ass, and he placed it on your neck, squeezing it slightly as he pushed your face farther into the pillow.

   "Tell me how much you like my cock you little whore." The man growled.

   "I love it... I love your big cock filling me up so well." You told him.

   His cock twitched inside you at the dirty words, and his thrusts became more violent, yet sloppier.

   "Look at you, taking me so well... Taking my cock like a good girl."

   When he slapped your ass and tugged on your hair to whisper that in your ear, a wave of pleasure washed over you, and you clenched around his shaft as you came. You back arched, your toes curled and you couldn't silence the loud moan even if you wanted to. 

   Wooyoung couldn't take it anymore, and he buried his member deep inside you, releasing his warm cum inside you with a quiet moan. You hissed at the warm sensation hitting your walls.

   The second he removed himself from you, he walked from the bed and put on a black silk robe and his mask. 

   You cocked your head and looked at him confusedly, as he approached you with a robe just like his along with your mask. He handed them to you.

   "Come on, put these on, princess."

   You obliged and wrapped your body in the soft material, followed by the mask. Wooyoung helped you up and held your hand. Before leaving the room, he looked at you for a second and fixed your hair, smiling a little at your disheveled look.

   He opened the large door and you followed him, hand in hand.

   As you stood on top of the staircase, the curious stranger eyes were all on you once more.

   Wooyoung wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close.

  "I would like you all to meet The Club's new member. Welcome to The Club."

[whimsimmortal]

Plot Bunny

Wow, I’m alive! And posting fanfiction on tumblr, as if I have any idea what I’m doing!! Please check it out on AO3, where I am actually capable of navigating the website: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27441853

Plink. Another small, innocuous sound scarcely registered past Danny’s homework-induced stupor. It could have been a stray raindrop or a kamikaze bug. He had more important things demanding his attention; namely, the book report due tomorrow. This was at least the fifth time he’d rewritten the same paragraph. Words had lost all meaning to him by this point, but he was so close to finishing.

Tip-tap. Clonk, the noise emitting from the bedroom window insisted. He glared suspiciously towards the disturbance, envisioning ethereal arrows or blob ghosts intent on breaking in. He hadn’t sensed anything ghostly nearby, but given his luck, the paranoia was usually warranted. Emitting a groan from the depths of his soul, he rose from his desk to inspect the noise. He spared a second to stretch and shake the pins and needles out of his fingers, trying to wake up. Just in case it was something serious, y'know. Tink. “Alright, jeez, I’m coming,” he muttered, pulling back his curtain.

There weren’t any ghosts, of course. That was somewhat of a relief, even if going down swinging  was preferable to succumbing to a failing high school education. The early sunset gleamed amber off the windows across the street, and the sky was clear, except for— chink— the pebbles bouncing off his window. A lone kid was standing on the sidewalk below, no older than eight or nine. He looked vaguely familiar. He was pulling his arm back to throw more stones and bawling his eyes out.

Danny yanked open the window, sliding up the screen to fully stick his head out. His core vibrated, unsettled. There wasn’t any obvious danger, and the kid didn’t look hurt. Where were his parents? Why was he here? “Hey! What’s wrong, buddy? Are you okay?”

“You, you, you,” the kid tried to start, but great hiccupping sobs interrupted him. He scrubbed his face with his fists, obviously trying to regain his composure. “You’ve gotta send the ghost hero out!”

Danny jerked back, unintentionally smacking the back of his skull on the underside of the window. Well, now he was awake. What? “Uh, a ghost? Here? No, there isn’t—I can’t—what are you talking about?”

The boy was right up against the side of the house now, sniffling loudly and staring straight up at Danny with wide, sad eyes. “Please?” He whined, winding his hands up in the fabric of his sweater nervously.

Well, now he was stuck. Some random kid was going to out his whole identity, but the urge to help was almost overwhelming. “I can’t—there can’t be any ghosts here, but give me a second and I can just come down?” He offered. “Do you want me to find your parents?”

“Noooo!” The kid wailed and stomped his foot, banging on the wall with his tiny fists. “Don’t lie to me! I’ve seen the superman ghost go in there! Let him out! I need him!!”

Oh, crap, someone was going to hear. This kid’s parents were going to freak out, or his own parents were going to notice, and what if they took that kind of claim seriously? Shoot. Literally. He chuckled nervously. “Hey, hey, shhh, okay! You win! I’ll, uh, summon him, or something! But you have to be quiet, or you’ll, y’know, scare him off.” The child nodded solemnly, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve and stifling his sobs.

Danny ducked back behind the curtain, gracelessly crumpling to sit with his back against the wall. He ran his hands through his hair. He’d been seen? When? He’d tried so hard to be careful, and use invisibility whenever he was close to the house. Maybe he’d gotten lazy. Maybe, sometimes, he let the promise of sleep take priority over precautions. Stupid.  He smacked the palm of his hand into his forehead, frustrated. How long had this kid known? Who else had he told? He couldn’t just scare him into silence, he was too little. That was just messed up, he’d give him nightmares or something.

He wasn’t going to figure anything out by sitting here moping. He triggered the transformation, the familiar prickling electric feeling swiftly replaced by the soothing cold. He turned to peek over the edge of the window, checking for anyone else around. It was still just the same kid, kicking at a pebble on the concrete while he waited.

He floated down slowly, not wanting to startle his impromptu visitor, who turned and saw him as he touched down. The little guy gasped, forgotten tears slipping away from unblinking eyes.

“Hi there,” Danny prompted gently. “Were you looking for me?”

The kid kept ogling, mesmerized, and a few seconds passed by before he could shake himself out of it. “Wow, you’re the real superhero guy,” he whispered reverently.

Oh. That was pretty cute, actually. He couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, that’s me. You can call me Phantom,” he offered.

“I’m Wyatt,” the kid mumbled, covering his damp cheeks with his hands shyly. He tipped his head down, still staring through his eyelashes.

A neighbor’s front door opened down the street, and Danny swiftly disappeared. Wyatt startled, blindly swinging his hands back and forth through the seemingly-empty space. “Wait! Come back!” He recoiled with a yelp when his blundering reach made contact with the specter.

“It's okay, I’m right here,” he reassured the kid. “But we can’t let people know I’m here, okay? They’ll—um. I’ll get in trouble.”

Wyatt squinted, reaching forward again. Danny offered his hand, and the little fingers gripped his glove tightly. He looked like he was offering the empty air a fist bump. “Right,” the kid agreed earnestly.

“Seriously,” Danny pressed. “You can’t tell anyone that I li-” he bit his tongue. Don’t say ‘live’. That’s so dumb. “Uh. Hang out here sometimes. Not even your friends, okay? Promise?”

Wyatt’s little dark eyebrows drew together, and despite his trembling chin and small stature, he looked profoundly serious. He shook the hand. “I promise.”

Well, that would have to do for now. “Thanks. Uh, what did you need me for?”

The kid’s eyes immediately started to well up again, but he squeezed Danny’s fingers and pressed his lips to put on a brave face. “C’mon, Phantom, you’ve gotta-” he sniffed. “You gotta save Fuzzy,” he warbled, turning and pulling. The ghost floated behind like a balloon on a string as the pair stepped down from the curb, heading across the street.

Oh, man, if this was about a dead pet, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. That was closer to Jazz’s expertise. He swallowed his mounting dread. “Who’s Fuzzy?”

Wyatt’s face scrunched up. “He’s my bunny,” he explained, looking away. “I was just tryin’ to show ‘im to Audrey, and—and then,” he sobbed. “He went under the house! And he’s gonna get lost and stuck, and I’m-, never-, gonna see him ever again!” He let go, burying his face in his hands and howling.

Danny rested a hand lightly on Wyatt’s little shoulder, throat tight. He’d never had a pet like that, but he could understand the fear of losing loved ones a little too well, and empathy always felt more forceful when he was in ghost form. Probably something related to ectoplasm being shaped by residual emotional energy, blah blah ecto-science theory. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him.”

The unusual duo walked two more houses down the block and cut through a side yard to a modest backyard, strewn with outdoor toys and an overturned wire fence—likey an outdoor pen for Fuzzy. An even younger girl sat on the paved patio, chewing on the end of her braid. She leaped up as they drew close. “Wyatt! I told my dad about Fuzzbutt, and he’ll call the—um, animal people. But they’re not here yet. Did you find him?”

Wyatt glanced a little to Danny’s left with a guilty expression. Well, crap, so much for his secret. He bit his lip, trying to keep his cool. First things first. A cursory scan of the area didn’t show anyone else in the immediate vicinity, so he faded back into visibility. The little girl—‘Audrey’, he guessed—gave a muffled shriek. “Ghost man!”

“Hush,” Wyatt scolded, voice quavering. “He’s a secret.”

“Oh,” Audrey whispered back. “Hello, mister normal guy man. I think you’re cool.” She beamed up at him.

“Hello, small ordinary human,” Danny quipped, and Audrey giggled delightedly. Wyatt dropped to his hands and knees, crawling up to the house, where a gap between the foundation and dirt was evident. The other two peeked over his shoulder, but there wasn’t any bunny visible past the darkness.

“Fuzzy,” Wyatt choked out. “Hang in there, we’re gonna rescue you!”

Danny turned intangible, letting his molecules seep down through the dirt past the level of his nose. He drifted close to the base of the house, juicing up the glow from his eyes. “Just wait here, okay?” Two grim, round little faces nodded back, and with that minor assurance, he delved beneath the house.

The weight of the floor above loomed. It was claustrophobic, like being buried… well, half-alive. The musty, dank mildew smell was gross, even though he wasn’t breathing. He could taste it. “Here, bunny, bunny,” he muttered. Please don’t be hurt.

A tiny pair of eyes reflected green through the gloom. The little ball of fluff was backed into a corner, and it snorted like a tiny angry bull, stomping its feet. Danny hadn’t even known rabbits could make that sound. It probably didn’t like his creeping, unnatural aura, like most rational animals. “Shhh,” he cooed, reaching for the tiny, grubby ball of fluff and dimming his glow. “I’m not gonna hurt ya.”

Fuzzbutt wasn’t convinced. In a courageous move, it darted through Danny’s forehead, wedging itself under a crooked board and squealing. Danny reached easily through the plank and wrapped his hands around the unhappy creature, sharing his intangibility. It writhed and fussed, trying to bite through his gloves. “Stop that!” He clutched it close to his chest; if he dropped it here, the stubborn thing really would be stuck. He swooped back out into the backyard, startling the anxiously waiting kids.

Audrey shrieked and tipped over. Wyatt recovered first, leaping to his Velcro-sneakered feet expectantly. “Is he okay?”

Danny recovered a more solid form, holding up the wiggling rabbit. Wyatt gasped, fresh tears glittering on his eyelashes. He reached out for the beloved pet, unable to contain his joy at the reunion. “Fuzzy! You’re okay! I love you, Fuzzy!”

“Let’s go inside first, so he doesn’t get away again?” Danny suggested. The last thing anyone needed was an instant replay. Audrey darted to open the back door, and Wyatt led the way inside. He sat on the wooden floor with open arms, and as soon as the door was firmly shut again, Danny deposited the squirming animal into his lap. Fuzzy looked marginally more content to receive numerous sloppy kisses from his adoring owner. He was actually a pretty cute little guy, black and white like a panda.

Even footsteps padded around the corner. “Wyatt, baby? Did you find-” the woman’s question cut off abruptly as she noticed the glowing stranger in her living room.

Crud. At this rate, the whole block was going to find him out before the week was up. He edged back a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, I was just, um,” darn it, wrong persona. He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “Doing my heroic duty, ma’am,” he finished in a falsely deep voice.

Audrey giggled (he didn’t sound that bad!), and the woman smiled nervously. Wyatt hopped to his feet, still cradling his bunny. “Mama! Look, he saved Fuzzy! I’m gonna rename him Fuzzy Phantom,” he declared.

Mama Wyatt dutifully stroked the bunny’s dusty ears. “Fuzzy Phantom needs a bath,” she commented, before looking back up to meet Danny’s eyes. She held out her clean hand, and it took him a second to recognize the offered handshake. He started to reach back, thought twice about his messy glove, and hastily peeled it off to shake her hand. Her fingers were delicate, but they didn’t falter at the chill. “You look taller on the TV,” she joked lightly. “It’s nice to meet you. Phantom, right?”

He nodded. “Uh, it was nice to meet you, too, Ms.-?”

“Sylvie Rosales,” she supplemented. Audrey snuck around her to flounce deeper into the house, taking the adult’s distraction as an invitation, and Wyatt started to follow her, but hesitated. He snuck a hand out around Fuzzy to tug on Danny’s arm, so he leaned down accommodatingly.

Wyatt stood on his tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Can I come see you sometimes?”

Oh, heck, no. That would be truly asking for disaster. “No,” he quickly replied, but before Wyatt’s pout could evolve into a true objection, he added, “but if you really don’t tell anyone how to find me, I could drop by sometimes.” He looked towards Ms. Rosales. “If that’s okay?”

Wyatt looked over to his mom pleadingly, stars in his eyes. What have I gotten myself into, Danny wondered, but he couldn’t help feeling charmed. Ms. Rosales looked like she was thinking along the same lines, with her thin-lipped smile and folded arms. “As long as you don’t cause any trouble,” she hedged.

“Thank you!!” Wyatt hugged Danny spontaneously, smushing his face into his shoulder. Fuzzy grunted his objection.

Danny ruffled the kid’s mop of hair. “I should get going. Take care of Fuzzy,” he grinned, pulling away. “And stay safe,” he added in his false baritone with a mock salute.

“You, too,” he heard Ms. Rosales call after him as he phased through the wall. He looped above the street once cheerfully before disappearing to sneak back home. He’d left his window open; rose-tinted light and a handful of moths had spilled onto his bedroom floor. This time, he didn’t reappear or turn back until he’d stealthily drawn the window and curtains closed.

He still had an hour or so to plug into his homework. He hummed as he started back in on the paragraph he’d been stuck on. It didn’t seem as daunting now, even with the lost time and near reveal. He’d have to keep an eye on his nosy little neighbor, but in the end, maybe it was the moments like today that made the whole gig worth it.

[patandpran]

The question of the Jersey

This is a Sarawatine fic that I wrote back in March that I thought I wore share on here too since Still 2gether is coming up so quickly!

When Sarawat asks Tine to wash his jersey for him, Tine starts to question the implications of what seems like a simple and harmless request.

Featuring: Tine's meddling friends, Oblivious Tine, Pining Sarawat and a sea of jealous #TeamSarawatwives

“Just wash it for me, okay?”

Those has been Sarawat’s simple instructions before leaving his soccer jersey in Tine’s hands. Tine was perplexed at the request but everything going on between him and Sarawat was confusing lately, so this wasn’t exactly an isolated incident.

Before he could object, Sarawat was walking away from Tine shirtless, and returning to his faculties side of the soccer field. Tine watched as Sarawat sauntered across the field, his muscles shifting as he moved. Tine couldn’t help but be somewhat mesmerized by the movement, as if he was watching the statue of David come to life and moving across the turf.

Tine was shaken from his close examination of Sarawat’s shoulder muscles by the screams of his fellow cheerleaders, likely appreciating the same view as he was - but for a different reason, obviously. 

“I hope our faculties play against each more often.” He heard one of the girls say which caused him to roll his eyes.

Sarawat always had that effect on girls, no matter how little effort he put in. Tine had to bend over backward to even get a girl to smile at him and often it was more of a sympathetic smile than an interested one. Tine shook his head in jealousy of Sarawat’s command over the opposite sex.

“Whoa.” One of the cheerleader’s approached Tine and inspected what was cradled in his arms. “Is that Sarawat’s soccer jersey?”

Quickly, Tine was surrounded by a swarm of female cheerleaders. He couldn’t help but love the attention but was disappointed to know that it was, once again, connected back to his ‘fake boyfriend’, Sarawat.

“Uh, yah.” Tine muttered, trying to be as casual as possible. “He just wants me to wash it for him. I owe him a favour for him helping me with my guitar chords.”

Tine felt a hand fall down onto his shoulder, “I’ll give you 2500 baht for it.”

“What?!?” Tine blurted out in complete shock. “Why would you pay money for a dirty soccer jersey? Are you insane?”

“I’ll give you 3000 for it.” One of his senior’s stepped in front of him, a hungry look in her eyes.

Tine suddenly felt very claustrophobic. As much as he would love some extra cash to weigh down his pockets, he wasn’t about to sell of his friend’s jersey just to make some extra coin. What was so great about a soccer jersey anwyay? He knew that Sarawat’s fans were intense but he didn’t quite realize to what lengths they might go to get their hands on one of his possessions.

“Hey! I think I see Sarawat over there!” Tine pointed over the sea of #Teamsarawatwives members that he didn’t realize made up most his cheerleading team. “He looks thirsty. Maybe someone should bring him some water?”

The women surrounding Tine turned suddenly as if on the attack. They moved swiftly across the soccer field, like a swarm of bees, to stalk their prey. Tine took the opportunity to quickly snatch up his things and escape. He would have to apologize to Sarawat later for the sudden ambush.

Clutching the soccer jersey tightly in his hands, Tine made his escape back to his dorm, still dumbfounded as to why a worn soccer jersey had inspired so much hysteria.

*******************

A knock fell upon Tine’s dorm room door and he sat up from his with a panicked gasp. It was the morning after the soccer jersey exchange and he was still on high alert. He eyed Sarawat’s soccer jersey that he had cleaned the evening before and quickly shoved it under his pillow, worrying that word might have spread about the jersey’s whereabouts and that an insane fan might be right outside of his door.

He crept silently toward the door and cursed the fact that none of the dorm’s doors had eyeholes to be able to peek through to see if it was safe to answer it. Tine took a deep breath as another urgent knock fell upon the door.

Tine swung it open and was relieved as his trio of friends stumbled into the room. Phuak, Fong and Ohm entered his room and took up their usual posts around his bed. Ohm, without hesitation, grabbed Tine’s computer and quickly propped it open.

“And to what do I owe this lovely visit so early in the morning?” Tine asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Considering our classes don’t start for hours….”

“Have you not looked at your phone this morning?�� Fong asked, flicking Tine in the head.

“I was getting my beauty sleep.” Tine retorted, striking a ‘model’ pose.

“I see that didn’t help improve your ‘beauty��� at all.” Phuak responded quickly, a devilish smirk on his lips. “You’re still ugly.”

Tine grabbed a pillow and chucked it at Phuak’s head but his friend dodged it easily. Ohm clearly his throat to bring his friend’s attention back to the matter at hand. “At 7PM last night, there was a report in the #TeamSarawatwives group that Sarawat’s soccer jersey had changed hands to a ‘average looking cheerleader’ from the law faculty. While efforts had been made by the members of the group, the jersey, in question, disappeared quickly from the scene when a visual distraction was made by the male cheerleader.”

Tine’s head began to hurt. “Why are people so obsessed with this stupid jersey? I really don’t get what the big deal is. I washed it and I’m going to it back to him. He was just trying to tease me and make a scene in front of the cheerleaders to embarrass me.”

Phuak, Ohm and Fong exchanged a look of disappointment and amusement at their friend’s response. Tine didn’t understand why everyone was putting so much weight on such a mundane situation. “Do you seriously not know what it means when a soccer player gives someone their jersey?” Ohm asked, his voice dripping with judgment and pity for his friend.

“It means that they are abusing their fake boyfriend privileges to make someone else do their laundry!” Tine objected, slamming his fists down on his mattress in frustration.

“No, man. You seriously are the most oblivious person I know.” Fong shook his head, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s an old faculty tradition, kind of like when engineering students give people their gears? Soccer players give their jerseys to the people they want to pursue.”

“Pursue?” Tine’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Like, be friends with?”

Phuak groaned and threw the pillow back at Tine’s head. “No, you idiot! Like pursue romantically! Sarawat wants you to wear the jersey so people know that you belong to him. He wants people to know that he likes you.”

Tine’s cheeks started to burn. “I…. no. There’s no way. This must be something he’s doing to throw Green off. It must be part of the plan to get people to think we’re dating. He’s probably going to call me or text me sometime this morning to explain himself.”

“Was Green at the cheerleading practice yesterday?” Fong asked. “Has Green been around at all lately? Why would Sarawat make such a public claim if the very person that you are trying to convince is nowhere in the immediate vicinity? Plus, he’s risking his status with his fans with such a bold move.”

Tine felt his hear rate speeding up as he became increasingly anxious based on his friend’s accusations. “Sarawat probably knew it would blow up on IG. That’s why he made such a big public gesture.”

“You are seriously so blind, aren’t you?” Ohm closed the laptop and set it aside. “Don’t you see how he looks at you? I don’t think I have ever seen him focus that intently on anything before unless its sheet music.”

Tine absentmindedly reaches for the jersey and pulls it into his lap. Again, his three friends share a look between them at the movement as Tine’s mind raced as he silently processed what felt like new information. But as he truly thought about Ohm’s words, Tine wondered if this was something he was forcing himself to be blind to.

“It kind of seems like this is not an entirely foreign possibility to you too.” Fong shared gently and nodded his head toward the jersey in Tine’s grasp. “No matter what is going on, Tine, we are here to support you and help you figure this all out.”

“You might be right.” Tine expressed and was just as surprised as his friends as the words left his lips. “He tried to tell me who he liked the other night and I just got this feeling. I tried to ignore until now but maybe… maybe I shouldn’t.”

“Sarawat is an awesome guy.” Ohm answered enthusiastically. “There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s taking this whole thing seriously. He’s not trying to make a joke of you… If anything, he’s trying to prove himself to you.”

Tine let out a breath of relief. “Thanks guys. I think I just need some time alone to think through all this.”

Phuak, Fong and Ohm took this as their signal to leave. Each gave their own gesture of farewell before leaving Tine with his thoughts.

*****************

The first irrational thing that Tine did after his conversation with his friend was invite Sarawat over to retrieve his jersey. The second irrational thing that Tine did was put Sarawat’s soccer jersey on underneath the sweater he was wearing. The third irrational thing that Tine did was answer the door as soon as Sarawat knocked on it.

Tine swung the door open, prepared to say the words that he had practiced over and over again fore the past few hours, but as soon as his gaze fellow upon Sarawat’s, the words fell from his mouth and only silence remained.

Sarawat, the man of few words, therefore was forced to fill the silence. “Hey.”

Tine still couldn’t find his rational thought so he just opened the door further and gestured inside his dorm. Sarawat slid past him and Tine couldn’t but feel the urge to pull Sarawat into a hug. Thankfully, he resisted and Sarawat made his way into the door and found his usual post at the edge of Tine’s bed.

“Did you wash the jersey?” Sarawat asked, spying the basket full of folded clean laundry near Tine’s bed.

Tine wandered into the bedroom after Sarawat, feeling his ears burn at the question. Tine kept his distance between them by leaning on the doorframe. He wanted so desperately to play it cool like he usually did around Sarawat but things had changed so quickly over night.

“Helloooo?” Sarawat smirked as he waved in Tine’s direction. “Usually I can never get a word in but you aren’t saying a word.”

Tine swallowed slowly and tried to collect himself, feeling the soccer jersey brush again his chest. Sarawat suddenly stood up from the bed, a look of concern on his face as he advanced toward Tine who breathed in quickly.

Sarawat placed the back of his hand on Tine’s forehead. “Are you not feeling well? Do you have a fever? You feel warm and your cheeks are flushed. I can go get some medicine.”

It suddenly became abundantly clear to Tine how much Sarawat genuinely cared for him. He felt like a complete idiot for not seeing it before now and his heart broke at the look of desperation in Sarawat’s eyes.

“No, no I’m fine.” Tine reached up and grasped Sarawat’s hand in his, moving their hands down so they rested against his chest. “Can you feel that?”

Sarawat looked at Tine with a mix of fascination and confusion. His voice came out as barely a a whisper. “Feel what?”

“My heart.” Tine expressed, unsure of where the words he had planned so meticulously had gone and been replaced by this much more serious script.

“Not really.” Sarawat murmured, looking completely transfixed. Tine shuddered at the realization of how much power he held over Sarawat.

“This might help.” Tine guided Sarawat’s hand underneath the sweater so that it rested upon the smooth material of the soccer jersey.

The intimacy of the gesture did not go unnoticed by both Sarawat and Tine. Sarawat breathed out slowly, “Your heart is racing.”

“I just wanted to share that with you.” Tine moved his face closer to Sarawat’s boldly. “Because of how open you have with me about how you feel…”

Sarawat’s breath hitched suddenly and he pulled away from Tine. He turned away toward the window and Tine hoped that he hand’t just made the biggest mistake of his life. What if his friends were wrong? What if Sarawat didn’t like him? What if he misread all of this and ruined their friendship forever?

Slowly, Sarawat turned back to face Tine. “Sorry. I’m just….”

Tine couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He needed to know. He needed to know if what his heart was telling him was true. He needed to know the truth of how Sarawat felt for him. He needed to know what all this meant.

In one swift move, Tine closed the distance between him and Sarawat and pressed his lips to Sarawat’s.

At first, Sarawat was completely still, as if in shock. Tine quickly began to panic but instead decided to trust his instincts and brought his hands up to cradle the back of Sarawat’s neck and head. He deepened the kiss and the answer of his own feelings was quickly clarified.

If Sarawat wanted him, Tine was his.

Sarawat brought his hands up to Tine’s waist and pulled them flush together so Tine could feel Sarwat’s own heartbeat mirroring his own. The kiss lasted a few more heavy breaths before Sarwat pulled back.

“You’re wearing it.” He said breathlessly, a shy smirk on his deep red lips as he lifted up Tine’s sweater to reveal the soccer jersey.

A blush quickly spread across Tine’s face. “I just wanted to make it clear that I agree… and just so you know, there’s no way you’re getting this back anytime soon.”

“That is just fine with me.” Sarawat dropped a quick peck on Tine’s cheek. “You shouldn’t ever take it off.”

“You never want me to take this off?” A grin spread across Tine’s lips. “I’m surprised that you don’t want to see what’s underneath this…”

“All in good time.” Sarawat responded. “For now, I’m just happy for people to know what is mine.”

And that was all the answer that Tine needed.

[reconsidering-my-life-choices]

Shine on you crazy Diamond.

A Tyril fic.

Pairing: Tyril x MC

Summary: This is au! Human! Tyril Starfury, and the way he meets mc in this universe. He's the head of a corporation, along with his father, and problems start arising after his engagement falls apart.

Word count: 1,996 words.

Warnings: None

You boy child, winner and loser.

He absent-mindedly walked down through the dim-lighted streets. A light drizzle falling, and dampening his long hair. He should have brought an umbrella. Though the weather was the last thing on his mind when he left his house that morning.

He was still fuming about that last foolish article they had written about him.

It’s been almost a week, give it a rest now.

A week since his engagement had fall apart. A week since the tabloids were filled with pictures of his former fiancée in the arms of another man.

He usually didn't care whatever it was they wrote about him, he had gotten used to the public scrutiny. But this time they hadn't just write about him, they'd gone and besmirched his family's name. Questioning his father’s judgement, for he had chosen such a “reckless, blind-sighted” man to be his second. Accusing him of nepotism, as if all the work he had put into their family business was worth nothing.

They knew nothing.

He was careless, and now his family was paying the consequences. He should have known better than to trust her. People outside of his family were not to be trusted. She wanted part in his business, she never loved him. She only wanted something from him, as everyone else did.

As he walked down the street he noticed people were eyeing him. Some with curious glances, some with judgmental stares, whispering to each other. As if having his failed attempt at a relationship for everyone to see wasn’t enough humiliation. Others just parted to let him walk through, as usual.

He was so deep in thought that he didn't notice a woman with her arms full with grocery bags walking his way.

He only noticed her when he felt the collision, and saw the contents of her bags sprawl all over the floor.

"Hey! Watch where you're going?!"

The woman quickly lowered herself to the ground to pick her scattered objects.

He was slightly stunned by the woman's reaction, but he was already riled up from the article, and wasn't appreciating her tone.

"I'm not the one crashing blindly into strangers."

His rational side knew that it was probably his fault. He was distractedly walking by, ignoring his surroundings. But his pride, and the anger he was feeling at the moment wouldn't let this go.

The woman was crouched in the ground, long hair covering her face, reaching for the objects spilled across the ground in a quick manner, before they could get wet from the dampened floor and rain.

"You sure about that? Because there are a considerable amount of people who'd probably say otherwise."

Her otherwise silvery voice was laced with enmity, as he could hear her grumbling as she hastily reached for her groceries.

He then noticed some people were staring at their exchange with curious gazes. The last thing he needed right now was to create a scene.

He sighed frustratingly, and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He lowered himself to the ground to help her gather some of her scattered items.

" Let me help you." He half grumbled.

"I don't need your help."

For the first time in their whole discussion, she looked at him. He couldn't help but notice her delicate features. From her smooth skin, framed by her long hair, to her captivating eyes. And he couldn’t possibly ignore the way her dress hugged her curves. She was… truly mesmerizing.

Recognition flashed her eyes for a second. He noticed.

He expected her to start apologizing profusely, to see the shame in her gaze.

Instead, she kept a neutral expression, and kept reaching for her things. He was slightly surprised, but didn't let it show.

There were a lot of items dispersed in the ground, and the light drizzle was turning into full rain. He felt a pang of guilt, after all, it was kind of his fault, even if he wouldn't admit so aloud.

"Seriously, please let me help you."

He picked the item closest to him. He didn't realize what it was at first, but when he fixed his gaze down he noticed. It was a box of tampons. His eyes widened a bit, and he felt the blush in his cheeks start spreading.

"Uh..."

When she saw what he was holding, she quickly took the box from his hands, averting his gaze with a blush of her own.

Despite the embarrassment he felt, he kept collecting some of the items, until they were all gathered back in her bags.

He was the first to stand up. He stretched his hand to help her, but she just got up on her own, light annoyance in her expression. They stood there for a moment, neither of them saying anything. She broke the silence.

"Well... You're not expecting me to thank you, are you? You did kind of run into me."

Her gaze was intense. He wasn't one to shy away from eye contact, but the way she was looking at him almost made him want to look away. Almost.

"Well, no..." Though she had a point. What was he still standing there for? What exactly did he expect from her?

She gave a sardonic smile.

"You're probably used to it, aren't you?”

He gave her a confused look.

“Used to what?”

He responded, with a harsher tone than he intended.

“ People thanking you for the honor of the Tyril Starfury giving so much as a glance at them."

He was taken aback. No one had ever speak to him like that. No one. What irked him the most wasn’t her rudeness or condescendence. No. What irked the most was that she was telling truth.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he was speechless. He shook himself from his inability to conjure words, and found his composure again.

"I am not responsible for what people treat me like. I never asked for any kind of special treatment."

He felt like he was telling that to himself rather than her.

She arched an eyebrow.

"You're saying you don't like their adoration and brainless devotion?"

"I wouldn't say they adore me, as of now." He said sincerely, his mind going back to the article.

"And even if they did, I'm not particularly fond of 'brainless devotion' from strangers that don't really know me."

He was slightly astounded with himself. Why was he telling a stranger these things? He wasn't the type to share what was in his mind. But they way she treated him, so... unfamiliar to him, so challenging. Made him want to explain himself to her, like he had something to prove.

Her eyes widened a bit in realization.

"Ooh, you're talking about… the article?”

He couldn't help the angry thought that crossed his mind.

Oh, come on. Did everyone knew already?

He knew she was using the word article to avoid the subject of his fiancée. He couldn’t help but appreciate her discretion. By now, everyone just talked about it like it was their business.

"You read it?"

Despite the anger rising within him, he kept his tone emotionless.

"Not really, but it is hard to ignore when the media keeps buzzing about it. One would think there are far more important news than the family drama of Bruce Wayne 2.0"

He couldn't help but give a small smile at the comment. She had sense of humor.

"Yeah, one would think so."

He gave a rueful smile, his light blue eyes slightly tainted with disgrace and shame.

She noticed the slight change in his demeanor, and couldn't help but feel a bit bad for him. His entire private life exposed for the world to see. Under the constant judgment and scrutiny of the masses, all of them having a say on the way he handled himself and his life. Also, it probably wasn’t nice to find out your girlfriend is cheating on you by reading it on the tabloids.

She noticed the people looking at them, some even had the audacity to pull their phones out, as if they wanted to preserve this exchange and gossip about it.

“You people don’t have your own lives to get back to?! Get a move on!”

They quickly averted their gaze, and kept walking. Some of them kept grounded, but after one of her glares they kept moving.

When she looked back at Tyril he had an amused expression, mixed with something else she couldn’t pinpoint.

"You shouldn't listen to what they say, you know? " She blurted out before fully realizing what she was saying. She couldn't help but wanting to relieve some of that dark cloud looming over him.

He quirked an eyebrow.

"Didn't you just say is hard to ignore?"

"Well... yes. But one thing is to hear what they say, and listen to what they say. You said it yourself, these people don't know you. Not really. They just happen to know things about you. You shouldn't care what a bunch of strangers have to say about your private life."

Again, he was stunned. He wasn't used to people speaking to him in such a free manner. Usually their words were calculated, contrived, and most definitely expecting something in return from him.

Yet here she was, giving him a piece of her mind, giving him advice, without ulterior motives. He felt... confused, but in a good way. Her openness, and sympathetic look gave him the courage to respond.

"I usually don't. But this time they didn't just diminished me and… my situation. They brought my family into it... And all because of something stupid I did."

She could recognize the emotion in his eyes. Guilt. Shame.

She wasn't expecting Tyril Starfury to be so… sensible. From what she knew about him, and based on what she has seen in pictures, he was very serious, with a calculative cold demeanor. She was expecting him to be the stereotypical spoiled brat who didn’t think of anyone but himself. She was finding out how wrong she was.

" Does your family blame you for what happened? "

There was a sort of genuine curiosity in her voice tone, albeit to that morbid need to poke into his private life, like he had grown so used to.

"... No. They don't particularly enjoy being badmouthed like that, but they don't specifically blame me. More the situation itself. "

"Then you shouldn't either. Besides, it's likely they'll forget about this with the next 'important' big news. The media always will pick whatever is the 'juiciest' new information, even something trivial and banal. No. Especially something trivial and banal. So this too, shall pass."

He considered her words for a moment. There was truth to what she was saying. Even more so, it was the way she was saying them, in such a kind voice, a real contrast with the anger she showcased earlier. He still felt vexed by the situation, but was able to find a sliver of comfort in the stranger's words.

He offered her a small smile.

"... Thank you."

She gave him a grin in return.

" Don't mind it."

She smiled one more time at him, and went about her way.

He was left standing there. Dumbfounded, his brow slightly furrowed in a confused expression. He was impressed at how the beautiful, slightly rude stranger had lifted his spirits. Even more so, because she did it out of amiability. No hidden motives, or schemes like he was used to expect from people who weren’t his father and sister.

"Wait. What is your- "

He turned around, but she was already lost in the sea of people.

"... name."

He stood there for a moment longer, contemplative about the stranger, and her words.

He looked down at his watch, realizing he was going to be late. He shook himself out of his daze, and kept walking, rain pouring down on him as he went by.

_________________________________________

Author's note: This is the very first fic I ever publish. Pls be kind 🥺. Feedback is appreciated. I plan on maybe keep writing this as a series. If you'd like to be tagged please let me know. This fic was inspired on the art and prompts of lovely @lxdy-starfury.

Tag team: @tyril-nia-kaya @mytardisisparked @pencils-and-paperclips @choicesandanimeruleme

[hecallsmehischild]

Recent Media Consumed

Books

The Medium-Sized Book of Zim Scripts: Vol. 1: Pigs ’n’ Waffles by Eric Trueheart. What a ride. Love what Trueheart can do with a sentence, even if it often leaves me baffled and laughing nervously. It was great, not only to see how some of the episodes came about, but some of the jokes that never made it to screen or pitches that got nixed early on. There’s snippets of lore and ongoing correction for the Zim Wiki and randomness coming out the ears. This is definitely a surreal read and loads of fun. I waited until the physical copy was available because I’ll take a book in my hands over Kindle any day. No regrets. Here’s hoping he really will do a volume 2 (about the episodes that he CO-wrote, as opposed to this book about his solo ventures).

Misreading Scripture with Western Eyes by E. Randolph Richards and Brandon J. O’Brien. Alternately infuriating and genuinely challenging with occasional confirmations of what I thought. I’m not completely sure I can rest on everything these authors say. They are very helpful in that they point out the things that “go without saying” in Western culture that blind me to original intent in scripture. However, I’m not confident they’re free from alternate bias in their interpretations. Western culture is often belittled in comparative examples. While we have many flaws, I don’t think the authors gave a fair assessment of many traits they belittled. On the flipside, I also was made aware for the first time of the cost (the things we’ve lost or exchanged) FOR some of those strengths, and it did stagger me. I take this book with a grain of salt, but it has been very helpful in pointing out where I put on “Western blinders” in reading the Bible.

Unoffendable by Brant Hansen. Within the first couple of chapters I found myself (of course, of course) offended. However, I made myself listen. And. Yes. So much yes. So, this book, in a nutshell, postulates that while Christians are seen as one of the most easily offendable groups out there, we’re actually called from the get-go, by the One who we claim to serve, to be unoffendable. That when we have our natural reaction of anger, that we do not get to hold onto it even if the other person is insulting us, even if the other person is “wrong! wrong! wrong!” even if the other person is abrasive. Hansen claims that even what we know as “righteous anger” is not a right that WE have, it is only a right that God has, and that we’ve twisted things in order to justify holding onto anger even though it’s explicitly contradicted in scripture. My initial “Hey wait a minute!” had to do with the psych books that tell me all about how anger is an early warning sign that someone has violated your boundaries, but having listened to Hansen, I don’t think his idea contradicts that. He stresses that right action should always be taken, but without the impetus of anger. Justice should be pursued, but without anger. Boundaries enforced, but without anger. Without offense. This is a shorter book, but very interesting (he has a great sense of humor, very self-aware style), and I’ll have to mull over the things he’s said.

Movies

Tarzan (Disney animated). Been a very long time since I’ve seen this. The fluidity of animation and the stirring soundtrack are my favorite bits. I’m mesmerized by the jaguar and by Tarzan’s motions on screen, more snakelike than humanoid/feline.

Uprising. A miniseries depiction of how untrained Jews in the Warsaw ghetto held off the German army for a pretty long time. It’s been a while since I watched any WWII movies, it’s still hard for me. But this was excellent. And it leads into how I ended up watching:

The Eternal Jew. A sub-plot in “Uprising” followed the filming of Nazi propaganda film “The Eternal Jew”. In lengthy conversation with my husband, I mentioned I was curious because in all my time consuming media about the Holocaust I had never actually seen original Nazi propaganda (beyond brief glances in museums), which feels like a major lapse if you take the topic seriously. So he took the time to track down a copy with English subtitles and we roped in our housemate to watch it (if you’re having trouble finding it, check the Internet Archives historical section). The three of us turned watching this one hour film into a five hour viewing session interspersed with pauses for lengthy discussion. My recall-and-regurgitate functions do not work very well to cover all that we talked about, but it was a very good and productive discussion. A couple things I recall being taken aback by was that the rhetoric in this film was A) not “TOTALLY UTTERLY OBVIOUSLY FALSE” or as idiotically reasoned out of thin air as I thought it would be (in fact it was often based on some distorted understanding of actual Jewish culture) B) centered just as much on economics as race, if not MORE centered on economics, and C) echoes a lot of similar rhetoric from political organizations today that utterly and completely disavows the party that produced this film. Except this film came first. That… disturbs me.

Shows

24. I remember my high school geometry teacher being obsessed with this show, and several years later I watched a few episodes with my then-boyfriend here and there. I sat down to watch season one through with my now-husband and whoah. I have never enjoyed a show that produces this level of cortisol in me as much as I enjoy this show. I will definitely have to take breaks in between seasons but I want to watch them all now. I just have to make sure I have enough yarn to get through, because I stress-crochet to the max while watching. Pretty sure I work faster while watching this show. Expect more blankets from me. (by the end of season 1) There is not one single feel left unsquashed. Pray for my doomed soul, I have seven seasons to go.

Infinity Train season 3. aaaaaAAAAAAAAaaaaaAAAAAAAAA everything HUUUUUUURTS WHY.

Anime

Love Live. Dropped after 3 eps. Not my cup of tea.

Fanfiction

Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality. I needed to sink into fantasy and check out from reality for a while so I plunged into a re-read of the best Harry Potter fanfiction I’ve ever read. A story that, yes, I find better than canon in pretty much every regard. I blew through it in about two weeks, now I need to find something else to sink into for a while, I think. Or maybe this mood merits a library haul. And now I want to check out the other rational writings of the site this author hails from, lesswrong.com, and see if I can learn the methods of rationality.

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Games People Play

Rating: Teen

Genre: Fluff/Minor Angst

Word Count: 8343

Summary: Baz gets dragged to a party by Dev. Simon gets dragged to a party by Penelope. Hijinks ensue. Based on "spin the bottle" request.

Read on AO3

AN: Oy vey, this took longer than I wanted. Work keeps giving me the goddamn morning and closing shifts so I've been exhausted beyond belief. But now I'm down to four shifts a week so more writing time :D Shout out to @carryonmylovelies for being the best writing helper/encouragement this side of the cosmos. Love you hun <3 Hope you guys like this!

———————————————

Baz

“Baz,” Dev whines, draping himself all over my back like some annoying floppy blanket. “Please?”

“You being pathetic is certainly not going to change my mind,” I say, focusing intently on my own notes. We have finals in a week, dammit, and my cousin is more focused on this.

“But I need you there! To be my wingman!”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “What makes you think I would be a good wingman?”

“Okay, less of a wingman, more of a support.”

“And since when am I a good support either?”

Dev plops himself on my desk, pushing a pile of my perfectly stacked notes. I scowl deeply. Fucking hell, I’m going to strangle him, blood relation be damned.

“Please, Basil? I’ll get you a new bullet journal or something nerdy like that.” He flicks my stack of leather notebooks.

“Nice try, but no cigar, cousin.” I push my glasses further up my nose. “I have far too much studying to do.”

He groans and slumps further against the wall. “But Agatha is might be there! She’s finally single again after three bloody years. This could be my chance!”

I scoff. “Sure.”

Dev glares at me so hard his eyes become slits. “A man can dream.”

“A man can hallucinate, especially with the right help.”

He leans over, arching over my very important homework. “Y’know, I heard Simon is going to be there too.”

Oh. Fuck. I freeze up, heat rising to my face instantly. A grin spreads across Dev’s stupid face. Bloody hell, I wish I had never told him about my stupid crush. Him, Niall, and I were all drinking cheap beer and playing truth or dare. Apparently that beer was strong to get me to answer “who’s your biggest crush?” truthfully. It’s not something I’m proud of, crushing on my gorgeous idiot roommate. But it exists, and it makes me- he makes me very weak. Damn Dev for using it to his advantage.

“He hates parties,” I mumble.

“Yeah,” Dev leans closer, “but rumour has it, Penelope Bunce is dragging him there. Something about getting him to have fun since his breakup with Agatha. Maybe he could have fun with you.”

I immediately throw a notebook at his stupid face so I don’t have to see it. But it’s also to hide my stupid bright red cheeks. The rational part of my brain knows that’s a one in a billion shot. Snow hates me. He thinks I hate him. It can’t happen. But my lovesick side desperately wants to be hopeful. Maybe, just maybe...

“Fine,” I grumble.

Dev straightens up. “Huh?”

“Fine, I’ll go with you to the stupid party.”

Dev grins like a kid on Christmas. “Yay! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Baz!”

He throws his arms around my neck, bringing most of his weight along with him. I push him off me before I’m strangled. “Yeah, yeah, you owe me, arsehole.”

“I thought Snow’s presence was your payment.”

“No. I expect five mint Aero bars by no later than next week.”

“Ugh, fine. Small price.” He jumps off my desk, then gives me one last squeezy hug. “You’re my favourite cousin.”

“That’s not saying much, considering your other cousins are my demon siblings.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Good point. Party starts at 8 in Fraternity basement. Meet me at my room at 7:45. Bring your game face and cologne. Maybe Snow will like the smell.”

He dashes off, but not before I chuck a pen at his stupid head. It just misses. Dammit. I sigh and hold my face, rubbing it up and down. What the fuck am I doing? This is idiotic. Snow hates my guts, I’ve made sure of that. I decided early on it was easier to just make him hate me from the start than confess my feelings and have him destroy my pathetic gay heart. Snow will always despise me. A party won’t change years of fights and snark and anger. No matter how much deep down I might want it to.

The door slams open, making me jolt. I don’t even need to look to know who it is.

“And a good afternoon to you too, Snow,” I say.

“Fuck off,” he growls like an animal. His uniform is in its usual disarray, tie loose and shirt rumpled. On anyone else I would call it sloppy. But on him, I find it ruggedly charming.

“Pleasant as always, I see.” I push up my glasses and turn back to my notebook, instead of looking at his stupid bronze curls and mesmerizing plain blue eyes.

“I don’t need your shit today, Baz.” I listen as he violently throws open his desk drawers. It sounds like a cabinet in a hurricane. Snow is always a force of nature, in both good and bad ways.

I sigh sarcastically. “Alright. Be as loud and pissy as you want, not like anyone else lives here. Don’t you have chemistry right now?”

He growls again and slams his drawer particularly loud. “Forgot my notes.”

“Ah, I see. Didn’t know you could take any.” The comment is out of my mouth before I can stop it. Sharp comments at Snow have become reflex at this point.

He gives the leg of my chair a good kick, rattling my whole body. I glare at him over my glasses, and he glares right back. Bloody hell, he’s so damn attractive. I look away before my face turns red. Luckily, Snow stomps away again, and I’m left in blissful peace.

Fucking hell, this party is going to be a nightmare.

———————————————

Dev

I’m putting the finishing touches on my amazing hair when I hear the knock.

“That Baz?” Niall asks me, voice all nasally from his clogged nose. He’s on his bed, reading some football magazine while surrounded by a mountain of tissues.

“Probably,” I reply. “He’s willing to go to the party with me.”

Niall scoffs but it comes out as a cough. “Sorry I have allergies.”

“Excuses, excuses.” I waltz over to the door. “Baz is my true friend.” I fling the door open, and my hands immediately drop. “Oh my god.”

Baz raises one eyebrow at me. “What?”

“What the ever loving fuck are you wearing?!”

Baz looks down at his perfectly pressed navy slacks, buttoned to the collar white shirt, and polished black oxfords. “Have you gone blind, cousin? It’s a shirt and slacks.”

I groan and shake my head. “I can see it’s shirts and slacks, Baz. Why are you wearing it?”

“Because it’s good party attire.”

“Mother of God, Basil, you- I just-” I groan again, grabbing his wrist to haul him inside. “Get in here, we have to fix you.”

“Fix me? But-”

“You’re not wearing a suit to a high school party, end of story.” I push him down onto my bed by his shoulders. “First off, this goes.”

I reach out and ruffle his slicked back hair. He smacks my hand away. “Hey!”

I shove a finger in his face. “No one under forty slicks back their hair. And if they do, they’re an arsehole.” I hand him my wide tooth comb. “Comb it out. Now.”

“Why?” Baz hisses.

“Because you don’t want Snow to mistake you for a tight arse banker, right?”

Baz keeps frowning, but starts combing it out anyway. Good. “Next, you’re not wearing these.”

I take his glasses off his face. Baz gapes and tries to snatch the spectacles out of my hand, but I’m too fast. “Dev! Give those back!”

“No! They make you look even more nerdy, and right now we’re making you look cool.”

“But I need them to see!”

“No, you don’t. You only need them to see stuff that’s super far away. This basement is not that big, you’ll be fine. Honestly, I think you wear these to look smart.”

Baz frowns, but he doesn’t protest. He knows I’m right. I nod and go to Niall’s dresser, sorting the messy piles on top that should be in the drawers.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Niall asks furiously, but I can’t take him seriously with that high pitched clogged nose voice.

“Baz is going to borrow some of your clothes.”

“Why not your’s?”

“I’m a head shorter than Baz. You two are the same height.”

Baz scowls. “I am not wearing Niall’s clothes. He dresses like a wannabe club cruiser.”

Niall leans over and punches Baz in the arm, hard. Baz growls and punches back with just as much force. Seriously, are they still five?

“No,” I say, “Niall dresses like a normal teenage boy. And tonight you’re going to pretend you’re one too.”

I throw more clothes onto the floor, until I finally find something good. I grin ear to ear. Yes, this is perfect. I turn around and toss the clothing right at Baz’s face, hitting him with a small whack. “There. Wear these.”

Baz takes them off his face and gives them a once over. He looks positively disgusted. “Absolutely not.”

“No bitching. Put them on or we’re not going and you don’t get to gaze longingly at Simon from across the room.”

He looks indignant, and I’m worried he’s going to punch me. But instead he just huffs and stomps to the door, heading to our communal washroom I suppose. I lean to the side to shout at his back. “And you’re wearing Niall’s sneakers! Not those bloody oxfords!”

He flips me off before slamming the door hard. I chuckle and flop back on my bed.

“What would he do without us?” I sigh.

“I think he’s considering finding out,” Niall replies, then sneezes loudly into a tissue. He slowly brings it away. The whole kleenex is covered in snot.

“You’re disgusting” I say.

“Fuck off,” he grumbles. “I hope Baz ends up killing you.”

I smirk, laying down on my crossed arms. Baz won’t kill me. I’m going to have my chance with Agatha, he’ll have his chance with Snow, and we’ll both be happy. Everything will be great.

———————————————

Simon

Everything sucks.

Why am I even here? I’m tired, I’m sweaty, I’m still getting over Agatha, and this party sucks. It’s just a bunch of my classmates in a dingy basement, totally pissed out of their minds, stumbling and bumping into each other. There’s not even any dancing. What’s a party without dancing?!

“I’m bored,” I groan, flopping against Penny, cheek pressed on her head. She sighs and pushes at my side.

“You’re bored because you refuse to leave this wall next to the snack table,” she replies. “Go mix and mingle, bloody well talk to someone other than me.”

“But everyone else doesn’t like me.”

“That’s not true, Si, lots of people like you.”

I scoff and cross my arms. Penny’s usually never wrong, but this time she is. People don’t like me, they’re fascinated by me; the weird orphan scholarship kid, the headmaster’s pet project. Only Penny and Agatha actually like me and know me. (Well, Agatha did like me.) And then there’s Baz, who just straight up hates me. Posh prick. Just because I wasn’t born with perfect hair and pretty eyes and a silver spoon shoved up my arse like him he thinks I’m lower than dirt. At least I don’t dress like a nerd. That’s one advantage I have over him, I guess.

“Are you going to leave any snacks for the rest of us?” Penny asks.

I look her in the eye as I shove a bunch of crisps in my mouth. “I’ve captured these crisps in the name of House Snow.”

Penny rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “I never should have introduced you to Game of Thrones.”

I smile wide, crisps filling my chipmunk cheeks. Penny laughs happily. Well, maybe being here isn’t too bad. I turn back to look out at the party, still grinning. But then my mouth immediately falls open, chip crumbs spilling on my shirt.

“Simon!” Penny yells. “What are you, five?!”

I dust the crumbs off my shirt, quickly chew and swallow, and point at exactly what I’m looking at. Or more precisely, who. “Penny, Penny, look. Tell me I’m not crazy, is that Baz?!”

Penny squints, pushing her glasses up her nose. I watch as her brown eyes go impossibly wide. “Holy shit, it is.”

“Holy shit,” I echo. Because...this is insane.

In the years I’ve known him, Baz has always dressed like a posh nerd. Uniform crisp and pristine, glasses down his nose like some snooty scholar, and raven hair gelled to oblivion. But tonight, he’s very different. For one, he’s not wearing his glasses, making his cheekbones look even sharper and deep sea grey eyes more visible. His hair isn’t gelled either. It falls in his face in a lazy wave. Most shocking of all, for the first time ever, he isn’t in businessman attire. He’s wearing a torso hugging charcoal grey v-neck, white trainers, and black skinny jeans. Since when does Baz wear black fucking skinny jeans?! And they’re like, really tight, showing off every toned muscle he’s gained from playing football. I can’t stop looking, holy shit.

“Simon? Hello? You still in there?” Penny is waving a hand in front of my face. I blink rapidly, snapping out of my jeans induced trance.

“Uh, yeah, Pen, I’m here. Oh my god, what is going on with Baz tonight?”

She shrugs, looking more like me than herself. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s decided to change up his style.”

“I seriously doubt that. He’s been wearing the same kind of clothes since we were all eleven, Pen.”

“People can change.”

“Not Baz.” I narrow my eyes, examining his strange outfit  with careful precision. “He’s plotting something.”

Penny sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. “Simon, for the last time, Baz is not some vampire supervillain.”

I scoff, crossing my arms with a frown. “Says you. I just haven’t proven it yet.”

“Whatever, Si. How about you try to have fun tonight? That’s why we’re here, remember?”

I hear what Penny is saying, but I’m still watching Baz. He’s got his arms crossed, leaning on one foot, a frown on his face. But that last one could just be, y’know, him. Everything about his face is designed for pouting. Either way, he doesn’t look happy to be here, no more than me. He must not like that his plot isn’t working or something. I keep glaring at him as I shove M&M’s into my mouth.

“And you’re gone,” Penny sighs. “I do not get your issue with him.”

“You don’t live with him,” I grumble through my candy.

“No, but I feel like I know way too much about him because of you. Seriously you need to stop obsessing over him.”

Baz lifts a hand to tuck a piece of his raven hair behind his ear, showing off the pointy tip. I stroke my chin. What’s the purpose of that? Is he trying to distract me? Is he trying to pretend he’s all cute and innocent and not evil? Strange, very strange...

“Hey! We’re playing spin the bottle!” someone shouts. “Who wants in?”

I stay on my wall. I don’t have anything against spin the bottle, but I’m busy, and not really in the mood to kiss a few random classmates. Plus I haven’t seen Agatha yet, but she might not be here. I’d rather not run into her.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on my arm and someone is dragging me away. I look over at Penny, who has a determined expression on her face.

“Pen, where are we going?” I ask, fear filling my voice.

“You’re going to play spin the bottle.”

I inhale sharply. “What?! No way!”

“Yes way! You’re going to go have fun, dammit.”

“Is spin the bottle supposed to be fun? I thought it was just embarrassing.”

“I don’t know, I’ve never played. And I’m not going to play cause I’m in a serious relationship.”

“Great endorsement,” I mutter. I try to wriggle out of her grip, but it’s no use. She’s like a bloody pitbull. Eventually, she turns to face me, hand on her hip.

“Simon, you can’t mope and overthink about Baz against a wall the entire time. Just try this, see if you have fun. You haven’t had fun in ages. You can stop anytime, just try please.”

I sigh, body and ego deflating at once. “Fine, I’ll try.”

Penny smiles a bit. “Good.”

She lets go, but I keep walking towards the loose circle of tipsy British teens. I recognize most of them. Trixie, Keris, Rhys, Gareth, and Philippa. (Luckily no Agatha, that would be awkward.)

“Hey we’ll join!”

We all turn to the left. “Oh god,” I groan.

Baz glares at me as he sits next to Dev, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes are deep sea grey daggers trying to stab me in the head. Why did he have to sit so close to me?! Luckily there’s a slightly drunk boy between us, wobbling back and forth even though he’s sitting. Hope he doesn’t get sick on any of us, especially if we’re supposed to be bloody kissing.

Oh fuck, what if I have to...no, no way. There’s very little chance that will happen. The universe can’t hate me that much.

Keris raises her hand. “I’ll go first.”

I lean my cheek on my palm. I really don’t care who goes, as long as it’s not me. Keris grabs the vodka bottle and gives it a good hard spin. I follow the spinning with my eyes, watching as the low orange light reflects off the glass. It’s kind of hypnotising, almost makes me want to sleep. Christ, I’m bored.

The bottle finally stops, and everyone either laughs or groans. It lands right on Trixie. I burst out in fits of giggles, clutching my stomach. Okay, maybe the universe sucks, but at least it has a sense of humour.

“You cheated!” Gareth declares.

Keris snorts and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I can totally cheat at spinning a bottle, Gareth.”

“If there is you found a way!”

Keris shrugs. She turns to her left and kisses her girlfriend right on the mouth. The really drunk people whoop and cheer. Some of my more immature male classmates gasp or gape like fish. Penny just sighs behind me. This isn’t unusual for her. I’ve heard many rants from her about Trixie and Keris’ snogging in her room. This is probably mild for her.

The couple separates with a little pop. Both girls are grinning ear to ear. A few boys are still gaping, which is kind of gross. I glance over at Baz, to see if maybe he’s having any sort of reaction. But he’s still as stone faced as ever. He seems to be having even less fun than me. That’s one plus, I guess.

“My turn,” Trixie singsongs. She lays a delicate hand on the bottle and spins it. It lands a foot away from me, and for a second I think it landed on Baz. My heart rate jumps a beat. Holy shit, did that land on him? But when Dev raises his hand, I let out a long breath, feeling relieved for some reason.

“I don’t think you want to kiss me,” Dev chuckles, and everyone else chuckles along with him. Except Baz, because he’s a creature of darkness who is physically incapable of laughter.

“The cheek okay?” Trixie asks

Dev shrugs with a small smile. “I’ll take it.

Trixie leans forward on her knees and Dev follows. She plants a big wet kiss on his cheek. Rhys gives a sarcastic whoop and holler. Gareth gives his own over dramatic “oooooo” and pumps his fist. As she sits back, Trixie rolls her eyes, going back to slum;ing on Keris’ shoulder.

“You two are so mature,” she drawls.

Gareth and Rhys keep giggling and high five each other. I chuckle under my breath. It’s immature, but just a bit funny. Dev takes the bottle in hand and spins it hard. I’ve heard rumours he has a crush on Agatha, so whoever he gets he’ll probably be disappointed. I’m getting bored again, leaning on my hand. The bottle lands on Philippa. The cheering duo gets punched in the arm by Keris before they get out too many whoops or hollers.

Dev looks at the ground, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, you wanna, Philippa?”

Philippa flicks her eyes over to me for a second. I’m not sure what she hopes to see. Honestly, I feel kinda bad for not being what she wants me to be for her. I look down, because I’m not sure what else to do.

“Sure,” Philippa replies.

I lift my head just enough to see what happens. Dev and Philippa crawl towards the centre of the circle. They both look very nervous, both lacking in experience or alcohol or probably both. He leans forward, eyes closed and lips pursed. She does the same and closes the distance. The kiss barely lasts half a second, but drunk people still cheer like it’s a Manchester FC game. Dev and Philippa scramble to their seats with bright red faces.

Philippa spins the bottle without saying anything. I’m barely following at this point. Pretty sure I’m going to leave after this and go stuff mint aero bars in my mouth. That’s the best breakup therapy in my opinion. I hope Baz hasn’t eaten my entire stash.

“Simon?” Penny taps my shoulder forcefully. “Simon, it landed on you.”

My head snaps up, only to see everyone staring at me, some looking very confused and concerned. I look down at the vodka bottle, the top pointing right at me. My eyes go wide. “Oh,” I squeak.

Philippa is blushing all the way down to her neck,with a small smile. She plays with the end of her hair. “Do you want to?” she asks.

I gulp, fiddling with my fingers. I’m nervous, but not really reluctant. Philippa is nice enough and I know she likes me. Maybe it’ll be nice, maybe I’ll feel something. What’s the harm?

“Uh, sure,” I say with a slightly forced smile.

Philippa’s smile gets a bit bigger. Fuck, am I leading her on? I don’t want to hurt her. This is a terrible idea, shit. She crawls forward, closing her eyes and sticking her face out. I shuffle towards her, squeeze my eyes shut, and kiss her.

It’s slightly longer than her kiss with Dev, but not by much. Long enough for me to realise her lips are smooth and smell like vanilla. Other than that I feel...nothing. It’s not that Philippa is bad. I just don’t feel a spark or anything close. I used to feel something with Agatha. Not a lot, but there was a stomach drop or a heart flutter at first. Not now. Part of me is scared I’ll never find anything like that again.

We separate, everyone is still making their obnoxious cheers. They’re laughing and smiling, so I try to smile back. The only person not so happy is, weirdly enough, Baz. He’s got his arms crossed and the corners of his mouth threaten to break out of his cheeks just so his scowl can get bigger. What’s got his knickers in a twist? Maybe he has a crush on Philippa. Well, pissing him off is a benefit I guess.

“Your turn, Simon,” Philippa says meekly, smiling and blushing at the ground.

“Um...” For a minute, I seriously consider standing up and running like the wind. But everyone is looking at me. I guess one more time couldn’t hurt. “Okay.”

I grab the bottle and give it a firm spin. But I guess I’m slightly on an angle, because it spins to the left like a wayward football. People scramble away to not get hit, giggling and clinging to their friends. I’m just focused on where it lands. The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can bow out gracefully and stuff my face with chocolate. It slows bit by bit, and finally, it stops. I snap my head up to see who it landed on. I’m met with a pair of panicked deep sea grey eyes.

Oh fuck.

Baz

That’s it, God hates me. There’s absolutely no question now. Of all the people he could’ve landed on, why did it have to be me?! This is an absolute disaster. Panic washes over my body like a nonstop tidal wave. Dev laughs and slaps me on the back, like this is some football goal at a match. I want to shout at him for being a numpty and run away to a very dark corner where I can just die.

But I’m frozen, staring at a gaping Simon Snow.

“Oh fuck,” a drunk guy slurs to his friend, trying to whisper but failing horribly, “don’t they like, hate each other?”

Snow’s face shifts from shock to a deep, deep scowl. He jumps to his feet. “Yeah, we do. So this is not happening.”

I manage to stifle my sigh of utter relief, but my silence is probably odd. So I cross my arms and stick my nose in the air. “Good. Like I would ever want to your chavy mouth on mine.”

Fuck, why did I add that last part? I hope I’m not blushing and giving myself away. Snow is turned around, ready to leave, but throws a fiery look at me over his shoulder. “Fuck off, Baz,” he snaps.

“Very eloquent, Snow. Forgot to mention your mouth is stupid too.” Except it’s not stupid. It’s full and soft looking and fucking beautiful, and I wish he wanted to kiss me with it.

Snow balls his fist and looms over me. “Well, your mouth is naturally made for frowning.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, very nice. Your’s can’t form proper sentences.”

“At least I’m not spouting shit all the time!”

“Either follow the rules of the game or leave, Snow.”

Bunce rubs her nose under her glasses. “Simon, let’s just go.”

She takes his arm but he doesn’t listen to her for once, shaking her off and menacing over me more. “Oh, you want me to kiss you, Basilton?”

Oh fuck fuck fuck, what is wrong with me?! I didn’t drink anything. I think I’ve just lost my goddamn mind. I need to get out of here before I burst into flames from pure embarrassment.

I stand up, brushing off these ridiculous jeans. “Of course not. I would rather go back to our room than have my lips torn up by your dry ones.”

Simon growls like a caged animal. And it should not make me as excited as it does. “My lips are not dry.”

“Guys,” Gareth says slowly, “maybe you should just-”

“The constant bleeding and scabs would disagree.” Leave Snow, for the love of God, just storm off with Bunce, please.

“Oh yeah?” Snow leans forward over the drunk boy in between us. “Well, I bet if I kissed you, you would like it, arsehole.”

If I wasn’t blushing before, I certainly am now. I am literally going to explode on the spot any minute. I scoff and look away.

“Like hell I would.” Yes, I would, and it would be awful.

“Fuck you, you would!”

“Never!” I snap, digging my nails into my arm.

Snow growls once again. “I bet my goddamn sword history book you would!”

He’s leaning closer now, close enough I can smell his cheap soap. It makes my pulse quicken terribly, like the thump of a rabbit’s foot. “It would be easy winnings.”

“Says you!”

“Yes, and I’m right!”

“No you’re not!”

“I am!”

“Why don’t I prove it, huh?!”

“Fine, go ahead!”

I don’t even have time to process what I said. Because Simon Snow immediately grabs my collar and kisses me.

Holy fuck.

Simon

I just want to prove I’m right, and stop his stupid mouth. I hate when he throws insults at me. And now it seems for once I’ve actually shut him up. We’re both frozen in place, me shoving my mouth on his. I faintly hear everyone gasp around us. But I’m too focused on kissing Baz. Oh my fucking god, I’m kissing Baz!

He’s just standing like a statue while I hold his collar with a death grip and squeeze my eyes shut. He’s really not moving at all, not even a twitch. Is he surprised? That would make sense. Scared? I won’t hurt him, not right now. It’s just a kiss.

Baz’s lips are colder than Agatha’s. Softer too. Like silk sheets on a chilly night. It feels kind of nice, actually. When his top lip slightly slips between mine, I swear to god, my brain short circuits. Scratch kind of, this feels really nice. Sensation spreads from my mouth through my whole body. Why does this feel so much better than when I kissed Philippa? Or even better than Agatha? This is so confusing and amazing my brain is about to explode.

I don’t even know how long we spend with our lips pressed together. I tilt my head to the side a bit, just for a change of pace. And even though it’s crazy, I swear, for a moment Baz relaxes and pushes his mouth forward. Pushing his mouth closer to mine. Oh my god. Is...is Baz kissing me back? It feels so much better.

My hands slide around to the back of his neck, and Baz’s hair is soft of course. I think about grabbing it, but Baz suddenly pushes me away. It happens so out of the blue I stumble back in shock. I expect him to be angry, to punch me in the face or at least shout until he’s blue in the face. But Baz, he looks, scared. What’s there to be scared of? His eyes frantically dart around, chest heaving, until he looks back at me. I’ve never seen someone so frightened in my entire life.

Baz turns and bolts away, slamming the door behind him.

The entire room is silent for a long, awkward moment. You could hear a bloody pin drop it’s so quiet. I’m frozen, mouth hanging open. I can’t even process what just happened. So many things are going through my head right now, turning into a mushy goop of mismatched ideas and fears. I look at Penny.

“Pen, I- what just- I...” I can’t form words. My mouth and tongue feel so unbelievably useless, even more so than usual.

“Simon-” she starts. But before I hear what she says, I’m off running. I don’t know why I’m doing it, but I have to follow Baz. I just have to.

———————————————

It takes me way, way too long to find him. I search all throughout the Fraternity before I remember just how bloody dramatic Baz is. He wouldn’t hide away in the building, he’d go to where he always goes when he’s upset. Not his room or an alcove like a normal person. The Wavering Wood.

I run across the great lawn, wind whistling in my ears. The trees get larger and larger until I finally reach the edge. It’s dark out, so I have to navigate mostly by my other senses. I feel rough bark, sink into on wet dirt, hear the leaves crunch beneath my boots. I squint, trying to see in the darkness. And when I catch a glimpse of black shining in the moonlight, I dash towards it.

Baz is sitting under a tree, legs pulled up to his chest, face buried in his knees. Raven hair fans around him. I watch his back heave and shudder. Fuck. I don’t think he’s okay.

Slowly, I walk towards him, careful not to make too much noise. I don’t want to spook him, no more than he already is. But of course I step on a fucking branch, the snap ringing through the whole goddamn woods. Baz’s head bolts up. His eyes are wide and scared like a deer caught in the headlights. Tear streaks stain his cheeks. We keep staring at each other, until Baz looks back at the ground.

“What do you want, Snow?” he asks. He’s trying to be intimidating, but his voice is too strained to scare me.

“I, uh...” Fuck, what do I want? Why am I here? I’m not Baz’s friend. Quite the opposite, really. Yet it hurts to see him like this, so I start walking towards him, fiddling with my belt hole loops. “I wanted to see how you were doing. You um, ran out of there pretty fast...”

He snorts unkindly. “That wasn’t an invitation for you to follow, Snow.”

I groan, rolling my head back. “Man, I’m actually trying to be nice, there’s no need to be an arsehole.”

“Since when do you care about me?”

I shrug as I sit down on the grassy ground. I’m cross legged, facing Baz and his dagger stare. “You looked scared back the party, and then I see you here crying. I’d be worried no matter who you were.”

He rolls his eyes incredibly dramatically. “Of course, Mr. Hero. Any kittens that need to be saved from trees? Probably more pertinent than me.”

“You’re the one crying in the woods, so I think you take top priority.”

Baz tries to wipe away the tear marks, but they stay the same. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, you’re obviously upset.”

“No matter what, it’s none of your business.”

I look down at the ground, playing with my shoelace. I know what I want to mean, but I’m not sure how to get the words right. Everything I’m considering seems dumb. Baz will throw anything stupid back in my face. Actually, stupid or not, he’ll throw it back. Might as well just go for it.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. I flick my eyes up, and Baz is gaping at me, his eyebrows are all scrunched together.

“You’re...sorry?” he says, genuinely confused for the first time in his life.

I rub the back of my neck. “Y-Yeah, I’m just, really sorry.”

“For what?”

What the hell does he mean? What else could I be talking about? I look right at him. “For like...kissing you when you didn’t want it. It was stupid and impulsive and really rude to you. You should never kiss anyone when they don’t want it. So I’m really sorry.”

“You...think I didn’t want you to kiss me?”

“Um, yeah. I thought you said I could, but then you ran out of there pretty fast afterwards. So I’m just super sorry, Baz.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, only filled by wind whistling through the branches. I keep looking at the ground. I’m not sure what Baz’s expression, and I’m not sure I want to see. I hope he’s forgiven me. I honestly don’t know what to do if he doesn’t.

“Thank you, for the apology,” he says slowly. “But you don’t have to feel bad.”

My head snaps up. Baz is looking away now. And in the pale moonlight, I can see a faint blush going all the way to his ears. I’m not worried anymore, just unbelievably confused. “W-What do you mean?”

Baz plays with the hem of his shirt. “I mean, I’m not upset that you kissed me without my permission, because you had it. I did say you could. We both made an impulsive decision.”

“Then why did you run off so fast?”

He twists the hem so hard I’m afraid he’s going to tear it. “Because, it’s just embarrassing to have your first kiss in front of your entire class, no matter who it is.”

My eyes go impossibly huge. I swear they become bigger than the moon. Holy fucking shit. “That back there was your first kiss?”

His blush gets worse, spreading down to his neck. Baz has always been so cool and calm. I’ve never seen him like this before. It’s strange, but kind of makes him seem more human in a way. He nods slowly.

“Oh,” I squeak. I inch closer, trying to comfort him, before remembering that I’m the last person Baz wants comfort from. Especially after I embarrassed him. God, I feel like a prat. “I-I’m still sorry then. I didn’t mean to take that away from you.”

“Stop saying sorry, Snow,” he sighs. “It’s really fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I was okay with it, because I li-” His lips press together before he says anything else. He plays with a loose strand of his hair, looking nervous and shy, still blushing so hard his entire face is red. The gears start turning in my head. I’m not as oblivious as everyone thinks I am. I can see things, they can just take a bit longer. And I think I see something very big now.

“Wait,” I say slowly, “do you...like me?”

Baz bites hard on his bottom lip and clenches his fists. A few more tears fall down his cheeks, but he doesn’t wipe them away, not even acknowledging they exist. My mouth drops open.

“For how long? Have you, uh, felt like that?”

He finally looks at me, his eyes wet and vulnerable. I’ve never seen him like this before, not ever. He doesn’t look like a villain, or a bully, or even an arsehole. He just looks like...a boy.

“A long time,” he whispers harshly, like he’s forcing the words off his tongue. “Almost since we met.”

And I thought I was done with surprises for the night. My heart is beating twofold, but I’m not sure with what emotion. Everything is so jumbled and twisted up right now. “O-Oh. Really?”

Baz rolls his eyes, though he looks more annoyed than genuinely angry. “Yes, really. You think I would make that up?”

“I don’t know! I’m not sure I know anything about you anymore...” I nervously scratch at the back of my wrist until the skin turns red. Nothing is processing, nothing makes sense. And one question pops up immediately. “If you feel that way, why have you always been such a wanker?”

Baz lets out a small snorty laugh, and immediately covers his mouth. But it’s kind of adorable. And I kind of want to hear it again. “Very well put question, Snow.”

“Are you gonna answer it or keep being a wanker?” I’m not angry, just tired really.

“Fine,” he sighs. He goes back to twisting his hair and shirt, chewing on the corner of his pouty lip. “I was a wanker because it was easier.”

“Easier?”

His face lowers even more, nearly behind his knees. “Easier for you to hate me, than for me to confess my stupid feelings and innevitably have you break my heart.”

I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut, almost offended that he thought I would be so cruel. But Baz looks even more hurt. I think that his feelings matter more right now. “Oh. Okay. You thought I would really hurt you?”

“You were straight as an arrow and already madly in love with Wellbelove when we were 11.” He traces the dirt with his toe, scuffing the pretty white trainer. “You would’ve hurt me even if you didn’t mean to.”

“Oh,” I squeak.

Baz scoffs with the corner of his mouth pulled up. “That’s your favourite sound tonight, Snow.”

I let out a sort of scoffing chuckle. He’s an arse, but funny. I’ve never noticed how funny he can be in his own biting way before. “Well, you keep dropping bombshells, it’s perfectly reasonable. Honestly you’re lucky I’m not exploding everywhere.”

He laughs, still small, but doesn’t cover his mouth. He doesn’t hide. “Yes, well, cleaning up bits of you off the forest floor wouldn’t be my favourite activity. It would be more fun than your snoring though.”

“I don’t snore!”

“Yes you do, I would know. You’re like an adorable little fog horn.”

We both laugh, starting small and getting louder and louder. Baz even begins to giggle, fucking giggle. He sounds like a thousand little silver bells. I shouldn’t be laughing. Usually I would be offended by his jabs. I’d yell and scream at him for being a dick. But he’s laughing, smiling, all with a playful glint in his deep grey eyes. I wonder, is this what Baz is really like? When he isn’t trying to make me hate him?

“I like this,” I blurt out. Baz stops laughing immediately. A confused furrow forms between his brows.

“Like what?” he asks cautiously.

“This, right now, what we’re doing. Being nice and honest.” I shuffle closer, knees nearly touching his. “I like this better than fighting.”

Baz’s pouty lips fall open slightly, just barely half an inch, and his eyebrows raise. I think that’s Baz’s equivalent of completely, utterly shocked. “Seriously?”

I grin as wide as I can. “Yeah, seriously. Do you, uh, like it too?”

I expect Baz to smile, to laugh, to be happy. But instead he looks scared. Even his hands are shaking. I reach forward, but Baz pulls away, wrapping his arms around himself. Another tear falls down his face but he quickly wipes it away.

“Why were you crying?” I ask quickly. “Was it just like, embarrassment?”

Baz slowly shakes his head, more black hair falling in his face in a lazy wave. “N-No, it’s just...this can’t be happening.”

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t stopped hating me, that can’t change.”

His voice is so small and scared. I blink rapidly, tilting my head to the side. “Why not?”

He scoffs and shakes his head, staring at his own lap. “Because I’ve made your life hell for years! Because one stupid kiss and a few laughs can’t change things after so long.”

I move even closer. I can see every crevice in his face the moonlight hits, every sign of his tears. Oh. I think I get it, sorta. I kissed him, and Baz wanted it, but he was sad because he was sure it would never happen again. That’s a reasonable conclusion. At least, it was.

“Maybe it can’t change everything right away. But,” I reach forward and touch his wrist, just lightly, and when he doesn’t move away I stay there, “we could try, y’know. To change things.”

He doesn’t look up, but his brows wrinkle together again, and I find it unbearably adorable. “What are you saying, Snow?”

“I’m saying I want to be your boyfriend.” I say quickly before I lose my nerve. “I mean, I’m not a very great boyfriend, if my last relationship is any clue. But if you want this, I want this.”

I stare at the ground, too nervous to look at Baz’s face. I don’t let go of his wrist though, and he doesn’t move away, but it’s still silent again. Every passing second makes my anxiety build up and up like a shaken soda about to blow. Will he run away? He ran away before. I don’t want him to go, not again. I don’t want to lose him. (Fuck, that’s dramatic.)

“You’re an idiot,” Baz sighs, and it makes my breath hitch. “But you can have...this, if you want.”

My head snaps up so fast my neck hurts. Baz is finally looking at me, eyes soft and open. I’ve never seen him like that before. A grin spreads across my face. I probably look stupid but I couldn’t care less.

“I do,” I say, “I really do.”

He smiles softly. Slowly, he turns his hand around and fully holds mine. His skin is colder than most people’s and strangely rough for someone so posh. His calluses scratch perfectly against mine. It feels incredible, somehow so much better than holding anyone else’s hand. Just like that kiss.

“Hey, uh,” I nervously run my thumb over his tepid skin, “can I, um, maybe...kiss you again? Like in a nicer way?”

Baz chuckles, squeezing my hand. “Yes, you lovely moron, you may. If we’re going to date, you need to fix your gram-”

I get up on my knees and shut his cute smartarse mouth by pressing mine against it.

Baz

Bloody hell, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. Because for the second time in one night, Simon Snow is kissing me. And this time he really wants to, because he likes me, because he wants to be my boyfriend.

It’s not forceful or angry like before, just firm enough to get me to stop mocking him. I freeze for a moment, the shock hitting me like a truck. But slowly, bit by bit, I let myself melt into it. Snow tilts his head to the side, so I do too, letting our lips slip together. Simon does this thing with his chin that drives me insane. At first I try to mimic exactly what he does, shoving back with my body and mouth, but I quickly realise I have zero idea what I’m doing. For once, Snow is the expert. So I let myself relax, giving up control for the first time in my life. Snow pushes me against the tree and places a hand on the side of my face. He delicately runs his thumb over my cheekbone, like I’m something good, something precious to him. Is this a fucking dream?

His hand moves farther back. Calloused fingers slip through my hair as his tongue slips between my lips. It’s warm and wet and the best thing I’ve ever felt in my entire miserable life.

“Baz,” he sighs quietly between our mouths.

No, this isn’t a dream. My imagination has never been this perfect.

I wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him flush against me. “Simon,” I groan. He kisses me harder, clenching a fist in my hair to better shove our faces together. Suddenly my breath feels short, and I push lightly at Simon’s chest. He moves away instantly.

“Sorry,” he says. He’s out of breath, unsurprisingly. I am too.

“No it’s okay, just,” I sigh and run my hands up his sides, “this is quite a lot for a second kiss. I just need a breather.

Simon giggles quietly. He falls forward, tapping his forehead against mine. I press my hands into his back, feeling the muscles through his shirt. We stay like that for awhile. I don’t mind. I would stay with Simon in my arms forever if I could.

“Hey,” he whispers, eyes still closed and leaning against me, “I’ve got a question.”

“Is it a sensical question?”

He pinches the back of my neck, just lightly. Not enough to hurt but enough to make his annoyance clear. “Yes, arsehole. Why were you at the party? You hate parties.”

“So do you.”

“Penny dragged me to it to have mandatory fun. So what’s your reason?”

I chuckle quietly. “Funny enough, Dev begged me to come with him because he wanted support for when he hit on your ex-girlfriend.”

Snow reels back, eyes wide and mouth falling open. “Seriously?!”

“M-hm.”

“But Agatha didn’t even come!”

“Yup. So it looks like I’ve had far more romantic success tonight than my cousin.”

Snow snorts out an adorable laugh. His hand trails forward across my jawline. It leaves sparks of sensation on my skin. He plays with a piece of loose hair in front of my face. “Y’know, I like your hair like this. You should leave it loose more often. Save some money on hair gel.”

I chuckle again, and Snow follows. Soon it turns into a loud laughter from both of us. I’ve never laughed more in my life than I have tonight. Once I calm down, I look up at him, smiling brightly. “M-hm. And you’re someone to take fashion advice from?”

A small part of me worries Snow is going to scowl and yell at me for being a prick. But instead he smiles too and rolls his eyes. I let out a small breath of relief. Everything is different now, and I love it so much more.

“Yeah, well, I know a good thing when I see it.” His hands goes lower, trailing over the soft v-neck. “Like this shirt. It fits you well.”

“Really?” I croon, trying to hide the fact that I’m exploding inside.

“Uh-huh. And these jeans. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw you in them.”

I grin so much my cheeks happily ache. “Well, I’ll let Niall know you like his clothes.”

His mouth drops open. “This is Niall’s stuff?!”

I cock an eyebrow. “You think I own clothes like this?”

“Well, no. But I, uh, kind of wish you did. You should definitely buy more jeans...”

His cheeks are cherry red. I’m pretty sure mine are too. I hold his waist tighter, tilting my head up towards his. “I’ll be sure to get some on my next trip into town.”

He smiles again, looking like a ray of sunshine. “Can I come with?”

God, he’s like an adorable little puppy. “I don’t see why not, Snow.”

He leans forward and brushes our noses together. “You called me Simon before.”

“No I didn’t,” I singsong.

Snow pushes even closer to me, warm lips against my ear. “I like it,” he whispers. “I like it when you call me Simon.”

How have I not melted into the forest floor yet? I don’t feel like a real person anymore. Just the remnants of a pathetic gay teenager who’s melted into a puddle after having all his dreams come true in a single night. I hold him tighter. Because I’m not letting him go anytime soon.

“Simon,” I sigh, just before I turn my head and kiss him softly. He reciprocates immediately, and I’m in absolute euphoria. I know we have to move eventually but I don’t want to anytime soon.

“Best spin the bottle game ever,” Simon giggles.

“Damn right,” I whisper, just before pulling him back into a searing kiss.

My god, I’m living a charmed life.

———————————————

AN: Main worry with this fic: I feel like things move too quickly, but at the same time I didn't want to drag it out. Like we all know what's going to happen, best not to beat around the bush lol. Either way, this has flaws like anything I write, but I still like it. I thoroughly enjoyed writing Simon's reaction to Baz in tshirt and jeans lol. Hope you peeps liked it too, see you next fic :)

[amartiniplease]

can u pretty please write something (prompts work too!) about joe liebgott falling in love with a german nurse? ♥️

Joseph Liebgott x Original Female Character

An Angel of Death

A/N: Hello, everyone. I’m free finally. (Okay it’s almost been a month but I have been enjoying the start of the summer. I’m so incredibly happy right now it is insane.) I hope this piece is a good enough kick off to me being more active on here. And I hope you all are doing well. (And also please give me your opinions on my writing, I’d love to hear what you have to say.)

This story is dedicated to anon, it’s not very lovey dovey but I hope you enjoy it still!

Translation of the german phrases:

Hände hoch - Hands up

Entschuldigung - I’m sorry

Synopsis: Is there ever a good time to fall in love? Suppose war would be as good a time as any.

Disclaimer: This work is based on the characters as they are portrayed in the HBO series Band of Brothers and is by no means meant as an offense to any of the real men that it was based on.

When Joseph Liebgott had first seen her she had been a mess. She had been standing in the aftermath of a bloodbath. Her fellow soldiers laying where they had fallen, struck down by the raining bullets from their opposition’s guns. The snow had been stained by their blood, making the mix of colours match with the red and white cross on her arm. He was at once reminded of an angel of death because of the almost graceful way she was holding herself. The sole survivor amongst her group. Her hair had escaped from the scarf that was wrapped around it, long strands whipping in the wind, a stark contrast from her immobile stance. Her nurse’s uniform had been stained with scarlett. The old and new taints intertwining to create an intriguing pattern that he found himself slowly following, his eyes trailing the length of her body. She had held her hands in tightly shut fists which he, upon drawing closer, discovered were shaking vigorously.

“Hände hoch!” Joe had demanded in german watching her slowly unclench her hands before complying.

Her cheeks had been flushed from the cold and her lips red by the excessive nervous biting they had suffered. She had looked beautiful. Something which had made him angry with himself because in his eyes she had been a nazi.

“Come here. Keep your hands raised.” She had not uttered a word so he had kept addressing her in german.

She hadn’t said a single thing until they were back by their foxholes, when Captain Winters had stopped by to talk to her. Before Joe had time to translate the words she had responded in only slightly accented english.

“I am a nurse, yes. I wish I had answers for all of your questions but I’ve never been trusted with any key information. But I’ll try to help in any way I can.” She had surprised them all by speaking.

Joe hadn’t liked the way his heart surged at her words, because helpful or not, she was still part of the german army. Winters had dismissed him after that and he had left, his mind still burning with the image of her in the blood-stained snow.

The next day he had been put on guard duty. She had been sitting in a foxhole farther from the front line, her head leaned back against the dirt wall and eyes closed. The air passing through her slightly parted lips like smoke because of the chill in the air.

For just a second he had stopped, mesmerized by the peaceful look on her face. He coughed, still staring at the her intently. “This is not nap-time.” His voice getting stuck in his throat making the words come out harsher then he had intended.

She had startled at the sound of his voice, before looking up at him sheepishly. “Entschuldigung.” Her voice was even and sure, making him feel like more of a fool.

Not bothering to answer he had slid down opposite her, trying to keep his face cold and distant.

Looking shy all of a sudden the woman in front of him had averted her eyes. “I’m Edith.” She had offered, extending her hand for him to shake.

Joe had glared at the hand in confusion. He could not for the life of him figure her out. Edith was a POW, but here she was greeting her capturers like friends. When he failed to shake her hand, she had let it fall, a pretty blush appearing across her cheeks.

When he the next day, had been assigned to guard her again he had once again slid down into the foxhole albeit reluctantly.

There she had been, again, a peaceful look on her face, eyes closed. He had wondered what Edith was thinking about. His mind snidely pointing out that she was probably thinking about her Führer, content in knowing she was doing her best to serve him. This made his expression sour, and when she opened her eyes and offered a smile in greeting he had only frowned. That day she had gotten bored of staying quiet after a little while. Edith had asked him about his home. And although he hadn’t bothered to answer it had made her tell him about her own.

She was from a poor working family, she had said. Her father had worked for a jew as a shoemaker in his shop, and when it had been shut down he had had a hard time finding a new workplace. As she had said the next bit she had looked him in the eye, her words accompanied by a desperate look. When the war had broke out, her father and brother joined the army as an attempt to save both their reputation and to provide for the family. This had left Edith alone with her mother who spent most of the day in a chair by the window, gazing out as if waiting for her husband and son to be back at any minute, not away fighting. She had been going out of her mind in that house, the meager rations and little extra money hadn’t been enough for the eighteen year old to give her mother the care she needed. So Edith had jumped at the chance sign up as a nurse to contribute some money on her own.

After, she had fallen silent. Her eyes had flicked up to his, gauging his reaction. “I’m not a nazi.” Her voice had been quiet but not weak, making him strain to hear her. “I was just unfortunate enough to be born in the wrong country, trying to survive in a society based on a system that is unjust and cruel. Not strong enough to fight back.”

Joe hadn’t known what to respond to that. So he had let the silence fall once again, and they didn’t talk more that day.

The next time he had guarded her was a few days later.

“I’m Joe. Liebgott.” He had said as way of greeting, sliding down opposite her once again.

Her small smile had been relieved, as she gave a nod, unsure just what he was inviting to. Joe had been confounded by his own behaviour. Usually he was loud, a little rude, and let his mouth run before he thought, but something about her had made him hesitant to speak.

Over the following days their conversations had hesitantly started to blossom. And the first time Joe had made her laugh in earnest, the kind of laugh that entailed head being thrown back, eyes squinting and cheeks flushing, his heart had seized. When she had calmed down and looked at him again, her eyes had sparkled and for a moment he had been able to forget all about the war.

The friendship between them was something he would have never had anticipated. But he had found himself looking forward to guard duty just for the sake of seeing her. Little by little her quirks had became a source for admiration and when she had told him stories about her childhood he found that they were not so unlike his own. So he had started sharing pieces of himself, first as a consolation of how vile he had been to her in the beginning, but after awhile he couldn’t have imagined not telling her.

She had told him about her time with the german army, about the young boys who hadn’t even know what they were doing as they shot someone down. About how she had seen soldiers cry as she patched them up, revealing to her their prayers to God to just end them instead of making them fight anymore.

Edith had been unlike anyone he had ever met before. Though that could have just been because he had been surrounded by war for so long that he had forgotten what it was like to have a normal conversation. She had been clever and strong and fair. So overly aware of herself, and she had often told him that she was ashamed for not doing more. For letting her mother end up the way she did, for not finding another solution for her father and brother. But mostly for not resisting and for her country not resisting.

He hadn’t even realised that he was in love with her until she had gone. He had arrived one day to see tear tracks on her dusty cheeks and had been struck with the painful surge his heart gave at the sight. He had not recognised it for the heartbreak that it was.

He had slid down into the foxhole like he always did, although that time with a look of concern etched onto his face. “What’s wrong?”

Edith had flinched a little at the words, looking up at him as if she wasn’t even seeing him. He had seen as he came into focus before her and her eyes had filled with tears threatening to spill. “I’m just so afraid.” She had said.

He had had this urge to hold her and he had wished so intently that there was something he could have said to make it all better.

Her eyes had been searching his face for something before she warily said, “Today I am leaving, and I am never coming back.”

“What?” He had been so shocked, as if all that time he had spent with her hadn’t been borrowed from the start.

“I have no more information that I can give you and I am a burden to you all.”

Edith had looked so sad when she said it. An unspoken apology in her eyes. As if there had ever been something she could have done about it. He had wanted to tell her then, even if he hadn’t known what it was he wanted to say but instead that image of her on the battlefield appeared before his eyes. The angel of death, only now with tears of grief falling down her face. He could even see himself lying there before her, red blossoming from a wound right over his heart.

[raendown]

Commission for @cassieeeeanne whom I cannot tag for some reason. 

Pairing: KakashiTenzou Rated: E Word count: 4904 Summary:  In which Kakashi is a vampire and Tenzou is the prey only too willing to be caught by his predator.

Follow the read or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Blood and Honey

Drifting through the corridors with a wine glass in hand, Tenzou felt rather like a character from a movie. They always had too much money and wore clothing too fancy for the settings they were in, moping around their homes dramatically with somber expressions having poignant revelations at the perfect moment to move their plot forward. The only revelation Tenzou had experienced lately was that he was much more in to this whole vampire thing than he would have expected. Not surprising considering the pretty package that came attached.

Footsteps echoing on the polished hardwood, he took another sip of wine and let his fingers trail over the doorknob before him. He was so far off in some unused wing of the mansion that surely these rooms weren’t anything more important than guest quarters or oversized broom closets and yet each door knob was a beautifully crafted masterpiece. Heavy brass and intricately carved, they were much too fancy to be wasted here where no one but him would see them. Well, him and the cleaning staff who he presumed existed, though he had no proof of that other than the fact that the mansion was exquisitely clean no matter how neglected the rooms appeared.

Only in Kakashi’s little playhouse could he could be drinking wine at two in the morning and wandering around abandoned corridors without supervision. The man clearly had too much money, judging by how well furnished each of these rooms were, but if setting up elaborate scenes like this one were what he wanted to do with it then it was his bank account, that was his right.

Tenzou let his hand fall away from the pretty doorknob and turned to go back the way he came. Hopefully he would remember all of the twists and turns without getting lost; for all the fancy things here he didn’t see any intercom or bell systems to alert someone else in the house that they were needed. Nor had he ever seen Kakashi interacting with any staff despite the enormity of his property and the unlikeliness that he cared for all of this himself.

Above all else, the idea that he could keep eight dogs and not have a single hair on the floors was possibly the most mysterious things about him – and that was saying a lot.

Kakashi was standing by the window when Tenzou finally made it back to the main living room. With the full moon in front of him and only one small lamp to light the inside he existed as little more than a quiet outline, as still as though he were naught but a shadow waiting for the man that cast him to reappear. It wasn’t until the clouds shifted outside and sent moonlight spilling in to glint off the wine glass in his hand that Tenzou realized he had fallen in to a trance just staring, mesmerized as he always found himself.

And who could blame him, he rationalized. Kakashi had fascinated him from the first time they met, enthralled him from that first encounter, filled his mind from the moment they kissed. He was like a drug that got in to your system and left you aching for another fix, a delicious addiction, and he hadn’t even the decency to be ashamed of himself for it.

“Did you find what you were looking for, pet?” his voice was low and dark, throaty in a way that made Tenzou shiver and draw a few helpless steps closer.

“Yes, here you are.” He could be smooth too when he tried.

Chuckling, Kakashi lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. “Indeed. Here I am. And what do you plan to do now that you’ve found me, hm?”

Wine clung to his lips until a pale tongue slithered out to lap them up and Tenzou wondered how his skin could be so pale to make even wine that was already dark look so ruby red. It certainly didn’t look that color against his own skin no matter that it did all swirling together in his cup.  Curious, he held up his glass against Kakashi’s. The color was indeed different – perhaps he’d gotten bored of whatever vintage Tenzou had chosen and opened another bottle – but before he could ask the question was answered for him.

“No ferment for me, pet. It’s after midnight and I am oh so hungry.”

“Ah, blood then?”

“What else does a creature of the night drink?” Kakashi’s eyes twinkled and Tenzou smirked at him in amusement. He was committed to the bit, that was for sure.

Setting his wine aside, Tenzou drifted across the room until he was standing a mere few inches behind his lover, fingers only just brushing slim hips and head lowered to whisper against moon-pale skin. “All that exploration, I’m quite tired now. I think it’s time for bed.” He smiled when Kakashi only hummed in response. “Are you coming?”

That certainly got the man’s attention. Slipping away without waiting for a response, Tenzou deliberately began unbuttoning his shirt as he walking. He wanted to make his point as abundantly clear as possible.

Watching him walk away, Kakashi swirled the contents of his own drink and lifted it to his lips to drain the rest. It was hardly enough, not after having someone here with him and preventing him from hunting for almost a full week, but it took the edge off his hunger enough that it was probably safe enough to follow after the delicious temptation inviting him so generously in to bed. Tenzou seemed to make a habit of testing his boundaries and it was hard to tell whether he simply enjoyed the thrill of danger or if he truly didn't realize the lines he was treading.

Not that it mattered. Kakashi had been more than open about everything, they both knew what they were getting in to and Tenzou was a big boy. He was capable of making his own decisions.

Hunger rumbled at the base of his throat but it was easily ignored in favor of the heat rushing up his spine, a hot desire he hadn’t felt this intensely for anyone in more than a century. Something about Tenzou called to him in a way that would be terrifying if it weren’t so thrilling. Immortal as he was, it was a terrible idea to get attached to a human. He knew that, had seen the same old story turn out poorly for others countless times. And yet…

And yet here he was trailing after the scent of all that delicious warmth. With such a distinctive aroma Kakashi could track his lover through a rainstorm in the jungle. Never in his too-long life had he encountered anything quite like the intoxicating bouquet of humanity, blood, spices, and fresh air. Tenzou spoke sometimes of being addicted to him; he didn’t seem to understand that Kakashi was just as addicted. Wherever this dance between them was headed he didn’t care so long as it didn’t end yet.

Upon entering the guest bedroom he had prepared for the man, however, he found Tenzou to be nowhere in sight. With the same scent covering everything it was difficult but Kakashi was able to locate the highest concentration of it coming from the shadows in the far corner.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he called softly. When he grinned he could see the shadows quiver and whispered, “Ah, I’ve caught you.”

Tenzou was biting his lip when Kakashi glided over to press him further up against the wall and Kakashi narrowed his eyes in playful objection to that. His were the only teeth that should be piercing all that delicious warm skin, sinking in to that delectable flesh, sampling the sweet nectar running just under the surface.

He realized he was staring at the man’s pulse when it suddenly bobbed in a harsh swallow.

“You’re looking at me like you want to eat me.” Tenzou sounded notably okay with that.

“I do,” Kakashi murmured. “I want my teeth in your neck, your blood on my tongue.”

“Let me guess, you want to devour me?”

“Mm, you do look like a meal, don’t you pet? And look, you’ve already begun preparing yourself for dinner.” Kakashi lifted one finger to trace the ridges of the chest before him. Humans were so amusing with their drive to craft the perfect bodies, the efforts they went to just to mold themselves in to the shapes they desired, and he’d never truly understood why until he saw Tenzou without his clothes for the first time. Tanned skin stretched taut over abdominals to kill for, perfectly shaped pectorals that made his mouth water until he wasn’t sure which hunger he was feeding.

Right now desire was winning, although that was hardly any surprise.

“When you look at me like that I always get the feeling that I should be running as fast as I can,” Tenzou admitted. Kakashi chuckled and leaned in to drag his tongue up that perfectly vulnerable neck, tasting the pulse, already drunk on the way it quickened under his touch.

“You absolutely should,” he said.

Then he peeled his lips back to drag sharp fangs over shuddering flesh and Tenzou arched in to him, sending his thoughts scattering. His own hot breath dampened the skin under his lips as he pressed massy kisses in a line upwards towards a defenseless ear where he began to very carefully nibble. Fingers clutched at the edges of his shirt and pulled clumsily at the buttons in a distracted effort to undo them until he took hold of Tenzou’s hips and pulled their bodies close enough to hamper further movements.

“If you are trying to undress me, sir, then I should think you can do better than pawing at me like an animal.”

“Gods, you are such an ass sometimes.” Tenzou’s voice was both irritated and aroused in a heady medley that had grown all too familiar over the past few months.

“Why yes, yes I am. But I rather think you like that about me.”

Instead of dignifying that with a response Tenzou pushed him away just far enough that he was unable to continue feasting on the neck and shoulder he had so been enjoying, returning his amused look with narrowed eyes before trying once more to unbutton his shirt. At least this time he was less distracted and therefore able to coordinate his fingers better. The shirt was open and peeled away in under a minute, attention going next to his belt. At that point Kakashi decided that they were even and turnabout was fair play.

Almost before his partner could blink they were both naked in the darkness and moving towards the bed, human fumbling and vampiric grace melding together in to an intricate dance only they would ever know. Kakashi knew better than to get attached. He also knew it was much too late for that. Every touch drew him in further and further until he was as deeply entangled in this trap he had set as the man in his arms was. Instinct cried out for him to feed until the body he pressed down in to the sheets lay dry beneath him and still he had yet to draw blood even once.

Not that Tenzou was unaware of the things he could do. Denying his urges had never stopped him from giving them voice just to watch how his lover reacted to the tone of his voice, hearing the dark desires hidden behind his devilishly charming smile.  

“I want to own you,” he whispered as he traced one hand down Tenzou’s side. The other reached under the closest pillow for the tube of lubricant he could smell, almond and plastic filling his nostrils when he popped the cap. “I want to keep you here with me to sate my every thirst. To fill my days with your body and my nights with your blood.”

“Nng!” Tenzou arched in to the touches and spread his legs in a wordless plea for more.

Kakashi was only too happy to oblige.

He began slowly with one finger, teasing his partner’s entrance with just the tip and then sliding inside up to the second knuckle, grinning viciously as he watched that beautiful body press back in to his touches. When he was sure it wouldn’t cause pain he worked in a second finger and set up a languid pace. Tenzou’s face was a masterpiece of expressions, frustration and desire, yearning and impatience, each of them a work of art and none of them encouraging him to move any faster.

Teasing had always been his specialty, the excitement of the cat and mouse game, seeing who would be the first to give in when the temptations became too much. For all that he was generally considered a lazy man this was one thing he was always more than willing to put a bit of effort in to. With Tenzou it was always more than rewarding, it was a joy. A pleasure.

Perhaps he was taking a little bit too much pleasure from curling his fingers to brush against the man’s prostate and dragging against his clenching muscles just to watch him squirm. Each time he sank his fingers back inside that tight heat he was rewarded with an involuntary jerk of the legs parted for him to kneel between, spread just wide enough that he had a perfect view of his own actions. Kakashi licked his lips. After living for so long he had of course had more than his fair share of partners but none of them had given him cravings quite like Tenzou. Even knowing how much of a bad idea it was had yet to stop him from throwing himself headlong in to whatever this was growing between them.

Not long after he finally had mercy and worked in a third finger Tenzou finally managed to unbend his spine and crack one eye open long enough to capture Kakashi’s gaze, panting like he’d run a marathon while that delicious pulse hammered in his throat.

“I’m good, fuck, come on!” A roll of his hips and a throaty moan made it very clear what he wanted.

“Patience is a virtue,” Kakashi teased. Still, he was quite ready to move on himself so it was hardly a disappointment to allow his fingers to slide out and reach for the lubricant again.

“You have no virtues,” Tenzou managed in riposte. After writhing in mindless pleasure for several minutes it was actually a little impressive that he could gather his thoughts enough for a witty comeback. Kakashi was almost proud, though mostly he took it as a challenge to do better.

With the lubricant in hand he lifted himself up and away, applying a generous amount to his palm and then discarding it carelessly on the floor, stroking his neglected length to spread the cool gel as he walked up the sizable bed to settle himself at the top of the mattress. When Tenzou rolled sideways to look up at him he was leaning back against the headboard and stroking himself.

“Come now, pet,” he called. “You wanted this. Come and get it.” Any other sensible human would have run from the dark smile that flashed across his face but Tenzou only shivered and rolled over obediently to crawl up towards him.

“As you command.” Tenzou’s voice was as hot as his skin and it made Kakashi chuckle.

“What a dangerous offer.”

“Hm, are you going to take advantage of me then?” As he spoke he slipped one leg over Kakashi’s to spread himself across the vampire’s lap. “Are you going to put me under your thrall and keep me forever? Lock me away from the world like a real pet?”

Kakashi tugged him forward in to a messy kiss. “A sex slave would be more appropriate.”

“That just sounds terrible, really it does.” Where he got the confidence to pull off a smirk that sexy was a mystery Kakashi was dying to spend the next several decades figuring out.

Settling his fingers on the tanned hips over his, he very pointedly bore down until it was a game of his arm strength versus the strength of Tenzou’s legs. Unsurprisingly he won. Tenzou moaned softly as he sank down on the cock waiting to fill him. When it was clear that the man intended to follow his silent orders Kakashi released his grip and allowed Tenzou to work his way down as he pleased, hips rolling and muscles clenching, head thrown back to cast unfettered sounds of desire up in to the air above them.

When he was finally seated, completely filled with Kakashi’s length, he braced himself on the headboard and lifted his weight just to roll back down again with a filthy groan. The rhythm he set was unhurried and yet perfectly controlled, teasing them both even as he chased his own pleasure at a steady place.

Lazy and unhelpful underneath the other, Kakashi still wasn’t completely idle. His hands explored the body writhing above him, raking his nails down across the heaving chest only to glide down and cup Tenzou’s bottom, spreading him open just a little wider. He only realized what he had done to himself with the position he chose when he took a deep breath in and felt his throat constrict.

He could smell it. All that hot blood rushing, racing, thundering through delicate veins, just under the surface and oh so tempting. Before he could stop himself his fangs had dropped and he traced their sharp points with his tongue, wanting. And why shouldn’t he? What was the harm in taking a little as long as he was able to control himself enough to stop? Surely he had enough self-control for that, enough feelings in the unbeating heart in his chest to prevent anything terrible from happening.

All he needed was consent.

Leaning forward, Kakashi pressed his nose against that tempting neck and closed his eyes to draw in the scent from right there at the source. His tongue darted out to lave the skin as he had earlier just to remind himself of how good it tasted.

“I want to drink from you,” he growled as Tenzou sank down on his cock yet again. “I want to know your taste, pet. I bet you taste delicious”

“Oh fuck.”

“Yes, don’t stop. May I drink? I’ll only take a little; you have my word.”

Tenzou quivered and lost his rhythm, hips rising and falling with frantic desperation. “Gods yes, yeah, bite me. Take whatever you want.”

Such an offer he could never have expected, nor did he expect the way those words would hit him. Kakashi felt his pupils dilating and the next thing he knew he was sliding through skin and drinking, Tenzou’s life the sweetest nectar on his tongue. As he had promised he took very little. He wished he could say it was because he meant his words and stopped before the temptation became too much but in fact it was much the opposite. The moment he had a taste Kakashi could feel the instincts he worked hard to bury rising up inside him like a storm, fangs dropping lower and hands clenching tighter to keep his prey in place.

What stopped him was in part fear, of himself, of what he could feel himself about to do. His teeth slid out as carefully as he could manage when ripping himself away because he in that instant he knew that if he continued there would be no stopping and the thought of doing that to Tenzou was possibly the most terrifying thought to have ever crossed his mind.

And yet Tenzou, perfect brave Tenzou, never flinched for a moment. His entire body clenched tightly as Kakashi marked him and then the moment they were separated he was coming, writhing and crying out as he met his release between them, dragging Kakashi along with sheer force of will. The rush of feeding, the euphoric taste of the man fucking him, the tight clench around his cock, it all seemed to hit him at once and Kakashi bit straight through his own lip with shock as he tumbled over the edge in to his own incredible orgasm.

Both of them were left panting in the aftermath as Tenzou collapsed forward to drape himself half over Kakashi and half over the headboard. For a few minutes the only sounds in the dark room were the two of them gasping for air and the slick sounds of Tenzou leaving messy kisses along Kakashi’s neck.

“Well fuck,” he muttered. “I knew you were going to bite me but that stung. And I did not expect to like it that much.” His words were broken up in to fits and starts as he continued to assault the cool skin before him. “God, how are you not sweating or something after that?”

“Vampires do no sweat.”

“I know you’re committed to that role – and I like it, don’t get me wrong – but there are some things you just can’t control, you know?” When he sat up he was wearing an easy grin, amused.

Kakashi was more confused. “Committed to what role?”

“Being a ‘vampire’?” Tenzou said, air quotes implied in the way he stressed the last word. Kakashi tilted his head curiously.

“It’s not a role, it’s what I am. You know that.”

“Oh. So it’s like a whole lifestyle thing then? I really thought it was just roleplay because you, you know, get off on it. I’m really sorry if I sound condescending, I don’t mean to! Just, uh, I didn’t realize you really do live the whole lifestyle at all times.”

“What lifestyle? I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” Kakashi frowned and shifted until Tenzou was sitting up a little straighter over his lap. He had a feeling they were not having the same conversation.

Tenzou hesitated, clearly to wanting to offend him. “I mean…Kakashi, you don’t actually think you’re a vampire, do you?”

If he still had a beating heart it would have stopped in his chest. Afterglow fading fast, Kakashi stared hard at the man still sitting on top of him, still filled with his softening cock. They had known each other for almost a year, had been sleeping together for months, and for all that time he had been completely honest about his vampirism. Looking back, he should have realized how suspicious it was that Tenzou seemed to take it all in perfect stride, not put off in the slightest by any of Kakashi’s afflictions.

Not having been one himself in a very long time, it was easy to forget how determined humans could be to explain everything away with boring natural reasons. He should have realized that Tenzou didn’t really believe him but after all that proof…

“I bit you,” he pointed out. “I drank your blood – which was delicious, by the way.”

“You’re not the first person I’ve met with a biting fetish.”

“Pet, I have fangs.” Just to make his point he dropped them down and peeled his lips back, letting them glint in the darkness. Unfortunately Tenzou didn’t seem too impressed.

Baring his own teeth as though this was all a game, he said, “They’re actually quite impressive. I keep meaning to ask if they’re implants or what adhesive you use if they’re not.” He lifted one hand as if to poke them and Kakashi jerked his head away.

“Neither! They’re my teeth! Oh for- just get up and come with me!”

Tenzou looked caught halfway between laughter and genuine worry as though he were questioning Kakashi’s mental state for believing so deeply in something he refused to accept as the truth. Luckily Kakashi knew at least one foolproof way to prove that he wasn’t lying or making things up – or crazy. He made sure to help his partner clean himself up but didn’t give the man time to slip in to the trousers he reached for, instead pulling them towards the bathroom with no clothes on.

Mirrors were a rarity in his home. Even after all this time he still found the experience uncomfortable and so he did his best to minimize the reflective surfaces in his home and stayed away from them when possible each time he ventured in to the human world. Leading Tenzou in front of the mirror and flicking the light on, he gave his partner time to adjust his eyes and then gestured across the sink.

“What do you see?” he asked knowingly.

Tenzou gaped, his own lonely reflection staring back at him.

“What…the…”

“Now do you believe me?” Kakashi smirked to himself and bent his head to nip at the man’s shoulder.

“That’s not possible. It’s…a trick mirror or something. Has to be. This just can’t be possible.”

Kakashi sighed and cautiously wound his arms around the other man, wary of a negative reaction. When he got none he assumed it safe to nuzzle in to the warm space just behind one ear. “I’ve been honest, pet. I am a vampire. You’ve seen my fangs. You remarked once that I had no heartbeat you could find. Now you can see that I have no reflection. What more proof do you need?”

He watched one of Tenzou’s hands come up to trace the bite marks his teeth had left, already closing over as the healing agent in his saliva did its work.

“Is there…any other truth you’ve told me that I didn’t believe?”

“Oh, who knows,” Kakashi replied flippantly. “You believed me when I said I loved you, didn’t you?”

That certainly caught Tenzou’s attention. Finally he looked away from the mirror, turning in the circle of Kakashi’s arms to regard him with an inscrutable expression that Kakashi would have called ‘thoughtful’ were he not suddenly so terrified of the idea that he might be thinking of leaving.

Panic gathered at the base of his spine and rose slowly, inch by inch, minute by minute, until finally Tenzou spoke again.

“Yeah, I believe that.”

“Good, good, I was prepared to do a lot of convincing on that front. It’s nice to know I don’t have to go through all that effort.” He smirked and hoped the relief coursing through him didn’t show too obviously. Whether it did or not he wasn’t sure, too distracted with the way Tenzou let out a bark of startled laughter.

“Oh yeah, wouldn’t want you to have to put in some effort. God forbid!”

Kakashi nodded. “So glad you understand, pet.”

“Uh huh. Jerk.” Tenzou shook his head, then paused and took one more peek over his shoulder at the mirror. “You know, I think I’m compartmentalizing. I’ll probably have a couple of panic attacks later when this all sinks in so just…try and be patient when this hits me later, alright? Maybe remind me that you love me a few times. That can be your effort.”

“You ask so much,” Kakashi drawled.

“Terribly sorry about that. Oh, no wait, no I’m not. I’m not sorry at all.” Tenzou’s mockingly smug expression was ruined when he suddenly yawned, turning his head so as not to throw his breath right in Kakashi’s face.

“Looks like it really is time for the human to go to bed.”

Snapping his jaw shut, Tenzou frowned. “You really don’t sleep…”

“Nope.”

“So you just…lay there and stare at me all night?”

It was Kakashi’s turn to bark out a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, how boring. I clean and tend to the garden and sometimes I pop in to town to do some late night shopping. The night life in this town is quite lively, I assure you.” Tenzou eyed him to make sure he wasn’t joking and then shrugged.

“Right. Well you’re right about me needing rest, I suppose. Maybe I can panic in my sleep and get it over with.”

His blasé attitude was a clear cover for the confusion below but Kakashi appreciated it all the same, appreciated that Tenzou wasn’t rejecting him outright. It was a little annoying that after thinking himself free of these conversations he was going to be subjected to them after all months down the road and yet…and yet he found that he didn’t mind too much. A few words couldn’t hurt him and he would put himself through worse to keep the man in his arms.

“Let’s put you to bed then,” he purred, scooping Tenzou up and encouraging those long legs to wrap around his waist. His actions earned him a roll of the man’s eyes but it was worth it to watch that expressions clear and know that everything would probably turn out just fine.

As they made their way back in to the bedroom, as he tumbled them both down in to the sheets and made certain that his partner was comfortable and covered with enough blankets to stay warm, Kakashi found that he was actually looking forward to tomorrow in an odd way. Not for the awkward conversations they would likely be having but for after. Whatever questions Tenzou had they would know each other better afterwards and anything that would help him keep the man he had fallen so dangerously in love with was a good thing in his books.

[whatamessz]

Fic “Take my Head”

Welllllll back in october @dreaming-powder and I talked about kink- and goretober and I…erm… wasted an opportunity started this thing which was sitting in my drafts since then, mocking me. Lately I’m extremely frustrated with my writing and it totally shows, but I had to finally get this out or it would haunt me. Sorry I kinda trashed your prompt ;_;

Summary: 10 Million years late to the Garage Palace Party, PWP loosely based on the visualizer.

Cleaned up and edited version on AO3.

3563 words | rating: explicit | 2Doc | 2D’s POV | TW: mentions  of   contagious disease, graphic content, injuries, blood, zombies | beware extremely flat critisism of governmental power structures and oral sex

2D sat on the mattress, perched up against the wall, his head put back against his neck. The blood from his nose finally must have stopped flowing, but the vague luminescence of the glow-in-the-dark-stars they had adhered to the ceiling in an attempt to make the storage unit more cozy was mesmerizing enough to keep staring.

The garage – located somewhere in the suburbs in a former small town in Essex, of all places – was their current hide out. It had been scarcely furnished already, but almost everything they’d brought in was tossed over or broken now. 2D couldn’t care in this moment. His head and his ribs hurt and he could taste his own blood in the back of his throat. His shirt and hands were stained red too. No handkerchiefs in the post apocalypse.

He mulled over his momentary situation. They lived in a storage unit because these days, safe living space was a resource everyone craved. That’s why the improvised military government had confiscated every inhabitable home with the ultimate plan to clear and declare the houses as secure for redistribution to the surviving population of the country. Up until now, this didn’t really happen. However, this and several other measures taken were ultimately just a leverage on the people to consolidate their position and suppress rioting. At least, that was how Russel had explained it to them. 2D had found that fairly persuasive since, if you wanted a home or just shelter, food rations, medical care, clean water and relative safety, you were told to go to The Refuges first.

The Refuges, where it could be made sure you wouldn’t carry or infect yourself with the O-virus and cause a new outbreak again. The Refuges where you could be surveilled and where the disease, whatever that meant, was annihilated and were you could wait for the promised piece of safety and normality you so hoped for.

The Refuges were a lie. The Refuges were horrible. The Refuges were a place where you got your most basic needs fulfilled, as long as you played along the rules the government set and accepted everything they provided to you in their grace. The Refuges were a place, where people in need, in fear and in pain lived together on smallest spaces, perishing on the wait for things to come. The Refuges were a pool to recruit workers to rebuild this glorious nation on nothing but promises of a shining future. The Refuges were a tool and a field of experimentation to see in what infinitesimal bits you could split a society and still rule them in an economic effective way. The Refuges were a place where, once you’d arrived out of free will or pure desperation, you were meant to stay and wait for your assigned purpose.

That was why they’d left. Secretly and in hurry from the great Royal Refuge of South London. In 2D’s opinion it was ridiculous to even call a camp like that. Nobody had heard from a queen or a king in years.

He didn’t like to think back on their time there or the night they had fled. It usually brought back vivid nightmares and he curled in a little just from the thought. However, they weren’t the only people who had managed to leave. There were also still many who never went to a Refuge in the first place.

They all more or less tried flying under the radar through wildly dispersing over the country side where people tried their luck in the less crowded areas. From time to time, there were raids rumored to be initiated from the government, but it was impossible to keep all of the scattered population in check, so they had decided the unruly-people-problem would likely regulate itself if they didn’t guarantee protection from remaining zombies, mobs and catastrophes like the “accidental” wild fires in summer. The government had made it clear, that everything outside the camps and greater cities was lawless land.

Partially, they had been right. The waves of roaming zombies admittedly had declined in the last two years, but with hierarchy temporarily so disassembled, people started testing.

So far, two main forms of social coexistence had become especially apparent: community building and gang building. The communities were extremely guarded and with the increasing pressure from the government, their biggest problem was their relative inflexibility. The bad thing with the gangs was, they weren’t usually friendly. Like everyone, they fought for survival and they took what they could find to ensure that. Sometimes – often – that meant stealing from other people. Like them.

Against all odds, Noodle, Russel, Murdoc and 2D had somehow managed to survive the zombie outbreak together, but they weren’t part of a community, nor of a gang. Or maybe they were their own gang minus the robbing people part. Mostly he was fine with this, but in moments like this the flaws of this state of being became apparent to 2D.

He flinched when he heard steps approaching outside that interrupted his train of thoughts. For a moment, he was afraid the group of rowdies would return, but it was only one pair of feet this time. He could see the familiar boots emerge under the half open roller blind before it was pulled up a bit more and Murdoc strode in. His left side was widely covered in blood, the scythe casually draped over his shoulder and he was smiling widely like a manic death god.

“Daddy’s home, children,” he announced himself enthusiastically and with the greyish light that came in from behind he looked like the legend he was known as in these suburbs and 2D briefly wondered if the blokes would have attacked Gorillaz makeshift headquarters if they would have known it was Murdoc’s too.

Well… who was he trying to convince? They probably would have anyway.

“Hey,” 2D greeted him and his voice sounded thick and nasal.

Murdoc’s atomic smile faltered visibly when he took in the state of the garage unit and finally the state of 2D. He growled exasperated.

“Bunch’a gangsters stopped by to check if we got anything interesting to loot.”

“Those fucking thugs that recently roam around in our territory?”

Their territory? Ok, maybe they really were a gang now and he didn’t notice.

2D just shrugged, taking in Murdoc’s appearance. His jeans and dirty white shirt were lavishly adorned with reddish brown splashes, so the evidence he had just offed a few flesh eaters was right there, but the scythe’s blade had already been polished back to its shiny menace. 2D knew, theoretically, Murdoc had just been checking and clearing on their supplies stash, but when the man came back looking every inch the anti-hero of one of those zombie films 2D had so loved before all this, he couldn’t help but feel a little warm and excited tuck deep in his belly. Murdoc had never looked healthier or more alive since most people around him were (un)dead. The scythe was a statement too, of course. When the outbreak came, it was just a quick defense tool he had grabbed from their requisites, but over time Murdoc had proven to be surprisingly skilled with it and because it fitted his shitty goth aesthetic like nothing else, he ultimately chose the scythe as his signature weapon.

2D could honestly understand how it made an impression on people when Murdoc came out of nowhere, slicing his way through rotting bodies like a hot wire through cheese, scattering organs everywhere, laughing like a lunatic and disappearing after his “work” was done. It sure made an impression on 2D.

“Took our torchlights. And the pillow,” 2D reported contritely. “But they left the sleeping bags at least.”

Murdoc send a string of curses while he was walking through the mess. He kicked aside broken glass on his way over and sat back up a shelf they had made from old apple crates.

“I knew it was a good idea to keep our important supplies hidden elsewhere,” he mumbled.

He leaned the scythe to the wall and took off the bag he had carried. He shad his heavy leather jacket too before he plopped down on the mattress next to 2D with a sigh.

Curious, 2D examined Murdoc from the closer range. He could see now how Murdoc got spatters of dried blood on his face and in his hair as well.

“You’ve got blood everywhere,” 2D stated his observation, the mild concern obvious in his voice.

“Could say the same about you. ’S not mine though,” Murdoc answered with a lopsided grin on his withering face. His tongue darted out of his mouth to lick some of it from his upper lip cockily. 2D shivered. The only good thing they had brought back from the Refuges were the vaccinations against the O-Virus.

“Good,” 2D just offered exhaling, gaze drifting back up to the glowing plastic stars. Murdoc then gently grabbed his chin to indulge in his own studies on 2D’s injuries.

“Too bad we lost the torches. The light’s crap in here. No deeper cuts? Nothing’s broken? Just a busted nose and a split lip?”

2D watched him intently. He liked it when Murdoc cared for him. A little too much maybe.

“Fuck, you look so hot like this, you know that,” he muttered out. In the same breath of air, he silently cursed his dumb brain.

Murdoc watched him apprehensively for just a heartbeat longer.  Then he smirked.

“Yes,” he said. “Plus, slashing zombies makes me incredible horny.”

2D only had time to blink before he felt Murdoc’s lips on his own, noses crushing together and it hurt, but all of a sudden everything he wanted was more of this to take him out of his miserable boredom. The cut on his lip burned with sensation that made his heart pick up its pace. He could taste the coppery savor again, but this time so intensely it made his stomach churn.  The imagination of the blood on their lips mixing buzzed through his head and he sighed softly into the kiss. The knowledge that this was zombie blood made him feel ill as much as it turned him on in a weird way. One should think that the actual outbreak of the apocalypse would have cured him of his weird kinks, but after they had settled in what could be considered a relatively quiet life under these circumstances and the zombies and their spreading disease weren’t the biggest thread anymore, he had learned that this wasn’t the case. Quite the opposite.

Murdoc chuckled lowly in response to his sigh and retreated for a second to check on him.

“We need to clean you up later” he suggested. 2D put a hand up Murdoc’s neck, gently brushing the thumb over the bassist’s face and leaving a bloody smear on his hollow, stubbly cheek in the process. They would have to beg Noodle for her gas cooker to heat some water when she was back.  

Murdoc put his hands around 2D’s waist and pulled him closer, 2D straddling his legs, before he dove in again and licked teasingly slow over the cut on his lip. That elicited a sharp hiss from the former singer and Murdoc used the opportunity to pry his mouth open with his tongue a little further.

2D felt dull pain pulsating through his nose when he needed to take deeper breaths now, but he managed to work around this issue and let Murdoc explore his mouth. He could feel his tongue rub and suck along the tender gum where his front teeth used to be a lifetime ago. His eyes fell shut and he let out an appreciative moan now.

Spurred by this, Murdoc let a cool hand wander under 2D’s stripy shirt and up his sore ribcage, where a heavy boot had kicked him not quite one hour ago before the five gang members had buggered off again. 2D flinched slightly at the gentle contact and opened his eyes. Murdoc didn’t immediately stop kissing him, but his expression was knitted in disapproval when he glanced up questioningly.

2D shook his head slightly. “’S nothin’, just be careful,” he whispered, not wanting to stop this. He gave Murdoc’s thigh a reassuring squeeze. For a brief second, he thought about the fact that the roller blind still was half up, but their mattress was tucked away enough in a corner of the unit and hidden behind a now depleted shelf. He just had to remember to keep quiet. He also hoped that Noodle and Russel wouldn’t return from their tour or that other unannounced guests wouldn’t like to pay a visit again right now.

“Painkillers may be rare, but daddy’s got something else for your ouchies,” Murdoc purred into his ear, which caused 2D to back off a bit with a snicker.

“Woah don’t you think I didn’t notice how you tried to establish that daddy shit again in the first place,” he said defiantly. “Daddy kink is not going to happen in this garage, you old letch.”

Murdoc looked at him, eyes torn wide open in mock offence. “So I am the letch now, am I? Then remind me again who initiated this, huh? Besides, you still look like you ate out Bloody Mary, so don’t give me shit on my humble peculiarities.”

2D shot him a sour look. Of course, he couldn’t really see Murdoc’s eyebrows under the heavy fringe, but he still could guess the suggestive wiggle he offered in return.

“Didn’t you just confirm right in front of me that you get a hard-on from slaying zombies?”

Murdoc shrugged. “You get a hard-on from watching me slaying zombies, so I think that’s a tie. What brings me back to the point at which we just stopped,” Murdoc countered and let him slip from his thighs to lean back against the wall again.

Murdoc fixed him there with a cunning gaze, then kneeled in front of him and slowly slid the pair of braces down from his wife beater shirt. 2D felt himself swallow down a heavy lump in his throat. Murdoc pushed his thighs apart and leaned down into him again for a deep and longing kiss. The fuck he looked like he ate out Bloody Mary, he thought while his pounding nose reminded him that Murdoc was probably right, but he had an appetite for something entirely else now. He started fondling the front of Murdoc’s jeans, but his fingers were batted away gently. Instead, he felt how Murdoc pulled up his bloodstained shirt a bit and fiddled with his fly. Relatively clueless on what exactly he was trying to attempt, 2D still felt how he and his dick grew more and more impatient. A violent shiver ran through his body when Murdoc’s tongue and lips left his mouth and wandered down his jaw and neck to suck little bites here and there. His fingers were wandering up 2D’s good side now and starting to tease his nipple with soft brushes. When Murdoc finally managed to undo the zipper and lost no time shoving his hand down 2D’s underpants, he already whimpered soft little chirps into the twilight of their storage unit.

Murdoc finally stopped the work on his neck and looked up at him, wearing an expression that made 2D a little nervous. He slid his thumps under the waistband of 2D’s pants and wiggled them down with some effort. 2D’s erection sprung free and Murdoc watched it admiringly for a short moment before he lowered himself onto his belly and dug his nose into 2D’s blue trail to happiness, inhaling the scent that, given their current circumstances, was probably a bit stronger than he’d have liked. Murdoc didn’t seem to care one bit though. 2D put his head back against the wall and looked pleadingly up to the weak light of the plastic stars.

“Shit, I was thinking about you the whole way back. How you’d just wait for me, bored out of you mind curtesy to your sprained ankle. Nothing to do but just wait for me and my ready ass. Letting daddy bring home some nice presents,” Murdoc mused and adorned every few words with a kiss to his belly and hipbones.

2D rolled his eyes and huffed. “Yeah I bet you wish, perv. You just make this shit up on the spot.” He had wanted his answer to sound keen, but it might have come out a little needier than he liked. He planned on further commenting Murdoc’s half-assed attempt of dirty talking him, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a clipped moan because the former bassist silenced him effectively by taking the tip of his cock into his mouth and giving it a hard lick. A second lick made 2D buck, so Murdoc dug his hands into his hips to press them down and take more of his dick into his mouth.

2D’s breath hitched and he put his hands on Murdoc’s shoulders, guiding him further down. Murdoc let out an appreciative grunt and looked up to him.

They knew each other long enough now that 2D could tell how Murdoc was suppressing the urge to stop and make a sassy comment, so he planted a hand into that thick hair and pressed him down a little further.

“Don’t you dare stopping now, Mister Niccals, better hurry up a little,” he commanded breathily and could see the conflict flaring up in Murdoc’s eyes for a brief moment.

Luckily, this time the urge for retaliation expressed itself in the form of deep swallowing, so he closed his eyes with a gasp and put his head back against the wall.

Murdoc’s head bopped back up again and 2D could feel his tongue licking the downside of his dick before it swirled around his head so slowly and with just the right amount of pressure to make him squirm so much Murdoc had to clutch his hips again.

2D tried to hold back his moans through clenched teeth as Murdoc continued to go up and down his length again.

Lust filled the crisp air of the garage and his breathing got more erratic with every minute this continued. He felt himself getting closer soon despite the relatively easygoing tempo his lover stroke.

When another moan slipped from his throat, he bit his lip in frustration, forgetting about the injury. He hissed sharply and could taste freshly dawn blood.

“I think I’m close,” 2D warned, voice gradually higher, but all Murdoc did was casting him an unimpressed look through his fringe and carrying on in his determined task. His toes curled in his sneakers and he lost Murdoc’s name and a few sighs along the process.

Suddenly, Murdoc hollowed his cheeks when he lifted his head up once again, put his tongue to the tip of his head and let it glide firmly over his leaking slit.

“Ah- Da-,” 2D could clutch the hand over his mouth just in time before the word slipped over his lips. Conveniently, it also swallowed the obscenely loud groan that wanted to escape his throat when he finally came and to his own shame, he couldn’t entirely exclude the possibility that his orgasm came so quickly because of how he surprised himself in this embarrassing way.

When Murdoc came back up at him, rubbing his mouth clean with the back of his hand, he positively beamed.

“Wipe that stupid grin right off your face, I was caught up in the moment,” 2D pouted, still audibly out of breath.

Naturally, Murdoc didn’t wipe his grin off, but started an obnoxious chuckle when he was done swallowing. “Oh no, ‘D, forget it. I heard that and it will be etched into my memory until the day you dig my grave.”

2D, to high on post-orgasmic dopamine to come up with a swift response, shoved his face away playfully.

“Still not establishing a Daddy kink,” he stated decidedly with a glare.

“You’ll get used to it.” Murdoc’s grin still seemed inextinguishable.

2D considered simply ignoring him while he was about to tuck himself back into his trousers, but then he turned his head around to face Murdoc again before he zipped up.

He crawled closer to Murdoc, preying grin suddenly plastered on his own face. “Or perhaps,” he started and came to a halt so close in front of Murdoc’s lips that he could feel their breaths mixing, foreheads almost pressed together. Murdoc’s face twisted up in expectation. That’s when 2D starts gradually pressing Murdoc down on the mattress with on hand to his chest, faces still close. “Or perhaps we switch up the expectation about who calls who a ‘daddy’,” 2D cooed and he could feel Murdoc swallow when he hit the mattress.

2D shifted to lick the zombie blood from his cheek and heard a low approving growl from beneath him. Murdoc’s ribcage touched his when he took a deep breath.

“Well, last time I counted we still had eight condoms left. So maybe make a use of them before we have to go on a new raid,” Murdoc suggested with a smirk.

“Yes. And maybe we should close the blind soon,” he said before he engaged him in a hungry kiss that made his battered lip and ribs hurt so sweetly.

[whydontwe-fanfics]

Firsts pt.2 (J.M)

Description: The second part of a Soulmate AU where you and Jonah grow a family.

Warning(s): fluff, life, a LOT of family moments, all that jazz

Word Count: 7.4k

Part One

- - -

One Month Later Minnesota December 2019

"This is what I've been wanting!" Svea squealed, jumping to her feet and bouncing on her heels while hugging the Nikon camera packaging she had just unwrapped.

"I know," you cheekily smile and she races towards you, hugging you tightly before going back to admiring her new present.

"I love you so much," she declares, taking a seat on the floor beside you and opening the box.

"That was expensive, care for that thing," Jonah nudged his youngest sister and she rolled her eyes.

"It's not a thing. It's a Nikon, D850 DSLR," she corrects him and you shake your head with a smile.

"Anything else under the tree?" Carrie asks and Esther leans underneath the Christmas tree, grabbing the last remaining gift - am envelope you had specifically placed at the farthest end.

"Just this," Esther waves the envelope around before reading the back. "It says to Jonah, from Santa."

"Oh, does it?" Jonah sighs, taking the package from her and peeling the flap over.

You feel anxiety pool inside of you as he pulls the laminated photo out of the pocket, his eyebrows furrowing before his face froze in shock.

"What? What is it?" Esther asked as Jonah's vision slowly moved towards you, his face going pale.

You feel sick in that moment, anxiety nearly giving you a heart attack as you wait for a reaction, a response, anything.

And then he smiles, no beams. Every one of his teeth are on display as his eyes water with happiness, inevitably making your eyes water, as well.

"Oh my God, you're crying," Carrie stood up from her seat.

Jonah looked back down at the photo and covered his mouth with his hand, in absolute shock. No words could escape his mouth as tears fell down his cheeks.

"Oh my God, are you pregnant?" Chrissy jokes, but when you don't laugh, her and everyone's eyes widen.

And then the screaming began.

"Oh my GOD! NO WAY!" Svea shrieked as both you and Jonah's mothers started crying, too. Jonah's father sat there with risen eyebrows and a small smile playing on his lips while Chrissy and Esther jumped around in excitement.

Jonah quickly pulls you into a hug, burying his head in your neck as he grins with joy.

"We're having a baby," he hummed against your skin, and when he said that you froze.

"Jonah... did you really look at the sonogram?" You ask, pulling away slightly.

"Y-yeah, why?" He asked just as Svea took the photo from his lap to observe it herself.

"Why are there two?" Svea asked aloud, and that was the moment your mother nearly fainted, having to take a seat in order to keep her eyes open.

- - -

"How did you hide it so well?" Jonah asked as he held you in front of him, your only clothing being a sports bra and leggings. His eyes stared at the very small bump forming on your stomach, mesmerized by the sight.

"Just didn't let you touch my stomach," you shrug with a small laugh. "And all those huge sweatshirts."

He glances up at you with a smile, standing up from sitting on the edge of the bed and capturing your lips with his.

"The guys are gonna be so stoked," he murmured against your lips. "Me, the first one to have kids. TWINS, at that," he laughs.

"So many uncles," you hum.

"I just-" he sat back down on the bed, pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your middle. "We're having babies."

"I know," you sigh, wrapping your own arms around his neck. "I was so scared."

"You could've told me earlier," he nudged his nose against yours.

"I could've, but Mara suggested it as a Christmas reveal with the whole family," you hum.

"You almost killed your mom, babe," he chuckles and you roll your eyes with a smile.

"I was surprised she didn't actually pass out," you admit. "She's been talking about grandkids since I turned eighteen."

"And here we are," he looks back down at your stomach. "Our babies are in there." He pecked your lips again before his face brightened as if a light bulb just went off in his head. "Do you know what we're having?"

"No, I wouldn't even think about finding out without you," your fingers play with the locks of hair behind his neck.

"Thank God," he grins. "When can we know?"

"Somewhere from sixteen to twenty weeks," you smile at the thought of finding out the genders of your babies. "So another month or two."

He dramatically threw himself backward onto the bed, arms releasing from around you as he places his palms on his face.

"What's wrong?" You frown.

"I'm just so excited," he pulls his hands away, revealing a grin. You feel giddy inside, knowing that you were making him so happy by carrying his children. That smile hasn't left his face since he realized that the black and white photo in the envelope was a picture of his two unborn children.

- - -

Two Months Later California February 2020

"I don't think it goes this way, Babe," you knit your eyebrows as your eyes roam over the base of the nursery crib you and Jonah were in the midst of making.

"How else would it go?" He leans back on his hands with a sigh, slightly squinting his eyes.

"We'd know if you hadn't thrown the instructions away," you pointedly say, sending him a look.

"I don't need directions," he waves one of his hands in the air. "I've got this."

"Jonah, our babies are gonna end up sleeping on two bars of plastic," you raise both eyebrows just before he lets out a groan.

"I'll go digging through the trash," he huffs, rising to his feet and dusting his hands off against the front of his sweatpants.

"Thank you," you hum, sending him a cheeky close-mouthed smile. He gives you a look before walking out of the room that'll be the nursery for two newborns.

You were a little over four months pregnant now and you and Jonah had decided that you'd both wait until the babies were born to discover the gender. Your friends and families weren't too keen on the idea, preferring a gender reveal, but eventually, they sucked it up and dealt with your decision.

You rest a hand on your swelled stomach as you reach for one of the photos you were going to hang around the room. A small smile played on your lips just before Jonah cams walking back into the room, waving a pamphlet around in the air.

"Found it!" He said, his voice full of relief.

"I hope you washed your hands," you raised a single eyebrow.

"It was on the counter, not actually in the garbage," he informs you as he sits back on the ground, placing the directions in front of him and opening the paper booklet up. "Alright, let's see... oh."

"'Oh' what?" You ask.

"It doesn't need screws... then what did they come with the packaging for?" He knit his eyebrows in pure confusion.

"They wouldn't include screws if not needed," you thought to yourself, aloud.

"Well we can use them, we just don't need to," he shrugged.

"I'm not comprehending, Jonah."

"Look," he shifted closer to you and held the instructions before the both of you.

Eventually, you had both figured it out and realized that putting the crib together was a lot easier than expected. After fixing up the first one, you easily made the second and left them in the center of the room, not sure which wall you wanted them against, yet.

"What about by the window?" You two your chin, squinting your eyes.

"How about this wall?" Jonah moves for the wall beside the one with the windows. "The dresser and shelves could go there, and we put the clutter in between the cribs."

Sometimes you'd forget how good Jonah is at all things involving interior designing. He'd designed every room in the house, and even he had come up with the brilliant color scheme of the nursery.

You look over at him with risen eyebrows and a smile.

"So that's a yes?"

"That's a yes," you nod.

"Alright, you begin nailing the photos up and I'll move the cribs," he instructed and you had nothing to oblige to, so you did as told. "And Jack'll help me bring the dresser up here tomorrow."

It didn't take long to have the majority of the nursery set up, and Jonah actually enjoyed it more than you did.

"What if we have two girls," Jonah scratched at his jaw as he helped you off of the ground.

"Would that be a bad thing?" You ask.

"I mean, having two little princesses would be amazing, but we're gonna make cute babies, Y/N. And with cute girls come boys," he rationalizes and you laugh.

"They'll have too many uncles standing guard," you counter and his eyebrows quirk in agreement.

"True," the corner of his mouth tilts upwards.

"What about two boys?" You hum.

"They'll be complete gentlemen."

"Taking after their father," you curl your arms around his neck and his hands place themselves on your waist.

"And then there's a possibility of a boy and girl," he nudges his nose against yours. "Is it bad that I'm really hoping for that?"

- - -

Six Months Later California August 2020

Three weeks. That's how old your babies had been, you note to yourself as you caress Edith's small head of hair.

Her beautiful eyes stare up at you in wonder as her mouth suckles on a tiny pacifier.

"How's our little princess?" You coo, your voice in a light whisper, as you unwrap her from the yellow swaddle. "Ready for a bath?"

"And our little prince," Jonah's light voice says from beside you as he does the same to Elijah, who lightly hums, his mouth open for no apparent reason.

"Beautiful babies, you two are," you lean in and place a feather-like kiss on Edith's forehead before removing her diaper and placing her on a baby-provided towel. Jonah does the same to Elijah and eventually, you're both carrying the babies to you and Jonah's large bathroom, where two small bird-like baths were set up on the ground.

"Holding the head," Jonah murmurs after slowly lowering Elijah into the water, making you send him a smile. He was just as new to this parenting thing as you were and in the span of 21 days, you'd say you guys were making progress.

You both slowly and cautiously cleaned your children while sitting on the floor, Elijah showing more discomfort while Edith had a subconscious smile on her face.

"It's just water and soap, buddy," Jonah murmured.

As you were softly washing the soapsuds off, what seemed to be a spec of dirt stayed put on her skin. You squinted your eyes and zoomed in your focus on her ankle. After running your own fingers against it, your eyes go big.

"I found it!" You say excitedly, startling Jonah.

"What? You found what?"

"Her mark! I found her mark!" You grin as Jonah grimaces.

"Now I know why how my dad felt when my mom found Svea's mandala mark," he sighs.

"Check 'Lijah's body," you're basically bouncing on your feet.

"What if they find their soulmates young like we did?" Jonah frowned as he searched Elijah's wet skin.

"That'd be great! It'd be just like us," you grin.

"You and I have two completely different mindsets about this," Jonah shook his head but froze when his eyes landed on a permanent dot on Elijah's wrist. "There we go."

"Where?" You lean over and beam after your eyes found where he's pointing. "Aw! My babies!" You squeal.

"This is gonna be fun," Jonah frowns and you flick your wet wrist at him, water spritzing against his face. "Hey!"

"Cheer up," you stick your tongue out.

"I can see it now," he sighs. "Them being taken away by their soulmates."

"Jonah, baby," You furrow your eyebrows. "Please remember that they were born three weeks ago."

"Exactly! Three weeks ago! Time goes by so fast, next thing you know they'll be getting married and having kids."

You shake your head with a smile and laugh as he lifts his son out of the bath, placing him on a baby towel that was set out beside him. You did the same with Edith and dried her off before the four of you made your way back to the nursery.

As tired as both you and Jonah were, the smiles on your faces never faded away as your eyes awed at every single thing either Elijah or Edith did. A mere yawn sends Jonah into bliss and a small sneeze melted your heart.

You and Jonah put diapers on the twins before putting them both into onesies. As you're snapping the last button of the white bodysuit on your daughter's body, the doorbell rings. You glance at Jonah with furrowed eyebrows.

"Who could that be?" You ask.

"It's Esther," he dusts his hands off. "I'll go let her in."

"Wha-why is-" he's out of the room before you can finish speaking and a huff leaves your mouth. You pick up Edith in one arm and do your best to do the same with Elijah in your other.

You walk down the stairs cautiously, balancing the twins in your hold.

"Hey!" Jonah's sister grins as you walk into the foyer.

"It's Auntie Esther," you say in a baby-voice, bouncing the twins. They both lit up with smiles at the movement before Jonah takes Edith from your arms and you pass Elijah to Esther.

"How's my favorite sister-in-law?" Esther grinned, both of you leaning in and kissing each other cheeks.

"Tired and worn out," you say, mustering up a smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Mister Soulmate and I are visiting L.A for the week and I wanted to stop by and see my niece and nephew," she explains, looking down at Eugene, kissing his forehead. "Also, I came to watch them."

"What do you mean 'to watch them'?" You ask, glancing at Jonah with a look of confusion.

"Jonah told me about how you guys don't really like leaving them alone, and you guys are very tired. So Auntie is here to save the day!"

"You mean-"

"Yup," Esther nods.

"Really?" You lift a hand and place it over your heart with a genuine smile. Never would you have thought you'd be so grateful to sleep. You've barely gotten any since Edith and Elijah have been born and to be able to sleep for more than six hours would be a dream come true.

"Yep, I'm here all day and night," Esther nods. "Plus, it'll be a good practice for when mine is born."

You and Jonah both knit your eyebrows for a second, both of you taking it as a normality. That was until she placed her hand on her stomach, giving you and her brother a small smile.

Your eyes widened and a scream left your mouth before you covered it with your hands.

"No!" You gasp, your lips growing into one of your largest smiles ever. "No!"

"Yes!" She does a little dance and another squeal escapes your throat before you throw yourself at her, minding the baby she held in her arms. 

"Oh my God! Esther! Oh, my God, I'm so happy for you!"

"Wha-when-when did this happen?" Jonah hugs her next, his face more shocked than your giddy one.

"Found out two days ago," she beams. "I told Mom, Dad, Steph, and Chrissy not to say anything. Wanted to tell you guys myself."

"Esther, why are you here? Go spend time with the father," you shake your head. "We can find someone else to watch them."

"No, I'm fine, seriously. He's spending the day with his brothers, anyway. Plus, I really want to spend time with these two," she gestures to her nephews.

"Are you sure?" You frown.

"She's sure," Jonah nods, placing his free arm around you. "Babe, our bed is calling for us."

"That's the first time you've said something like that without us having sex afterward," you send him a look and he laughs as Esther sneers.

"Didn't need to know that," Esther scrunches her nose and you send her a quick wink.

"Alright, you know the house, you've been here a thousand times. Where are you gonna set up camp?" Jonah asks.

"Living room," Esther shrugs.

"Okay, I'll go get the cots," you nod, turning and heading back to the second floor. You wince slightly being that your lower half was still very sore.

"Babe, just throw 'em down, you're in pain," Jonah shakes his head before turning back to Esther, who was awing at her nephew.

"They're bigger now," Esther points out and Jonah lets out a breath.

"Yeah, don't remind me," he says before turning back to the stairs, where you're standing at the top, about to take a step down. "Babe! Just throw them."

"I've got to show her the food-" you protest.

"I've got it, Y/N," Jonah holds his hands out and with a groan, you toss the blankets down, along with a bag of diapers, pacifiers, toys, and extras.

"Alright, go lay down. I'll be up in a bit," he calls and she nods before slightly leaning over the railing.

"Thank you so much, Esther!"

You wouldn't be lying if you said you didn't feel wary about not being on the same floor as the twins, let alone them with someone else.

"No problem," she smiles back up at you before following Jonah to the kitchen. With a sigh, you do as told while Jonah directs Esther to the food and anything else she'll need.

Twenty minutes later, Esther and the twins were settled on the living room floor and Jonah was walking into your shared bedroom. A small smile grew on his lips as you were passed out beneath the sheets and he knew that you must've fallen asleep two seconds after your head hit the pillow. He climbed in beside you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back to his chest and kissing the back of your head before slipping into sleep, as well.

- - -

Four Months Later Minnesota December 2020 {22}

"I don't look good," you shake your head, oncoming tears stinging at the back of your eyes. "People are going to talk and stare."

"Y/N, I will shove this heel up your ass," Chrissy grumbles. "You are the most beautiful person I've ever seen in a wedding dress, besides Mom... and Blake Lively. People will talk because you're the fucking bride and people are going to stare because you're the fucking bride."

"Speech of the century goes to," Mara claps her hands as you purse your lips.

"I-just... Maybe we should've pushed it back a bit. Wait until my body recovered from the twins."

"Y/N, you look incredible. Seriously, stop fretting. You're not the one with the belly the size of an artichoke," Esther shook her head.

"Au contraire," you send her a look.

"You've been soulmates since you were six, how long could you push a wedding?" Karima asks as she plays with her bouquet of flowers.

"Actually, they've been soulmates since they were born," Mara corrects.

"Fight me, Mara."

"You have to walk down that aisle in fifteen minutes, Y/N. Are you really going to sit here and complain about your weight when your soulmate is waiting for you, as ready as ever, to marry the love of his life?" Chrissy continues.

"Way to make me feel bad," you murmur before sighing. "Thank you, Chrissy. I needed that."

"There Mommy is!" Your mother coos as she walks in with Elijah. "Honey, you look gorgeous."

You smile and walk up to her, taking Elijah from her arms and kissing her cheek. "Thanks, Mom." You hold Elijah up and grin at the upwards tilt of his parted lips. "Hi, baby. You look so handsome in your little suit." You look into his eyes that began forming green specs on the outline of the brown as he kicked his feet happily.

"Y/N, you're absolutely beautiful," Carrie walks into the room with Edith in her arms.

"Thank you, Mom," you give her a smile.

"Ten minutes!" Mara jumps up from her seat and everybody is thrown into a hassle.

"Let me take him back to the rest," your mother says before you hand Elijah to her.

"Come on, we've got to go," Karima grabs your hand as Mara helped Esther, whose hand was on her swelled stomach, up.

While you stay back, the rest head to the venue on the first floor. Carrie places Edith on the floor beside Delilah, Karima's six-year-old daughter. Both she and Edith would be your flower girls, Delilah helping Edith walk being that the five-month-old can only do so when balanced by someone else.

The bridesmaids and groomsmen take place moments before the music began. The doors opened and the pairs walked down the aisle. Not long after, Delilah and Edith walked down as well, both of them throwing petals out of the basket they shared.

You now stood in front of the closed doors, nerves wracking your body. None of them were for the doubt of marrying Jonah, you knew you wanted to marry him when you were only six and sixteen years later, nothing's changed.

"Ready?" Timothy, Jonah's father, asked as he stood beside you, your arm looped through his. He had been more of a father than your biological one in the past few years, from phone calls to lunch meetings to assistance and advice, he'd been there for you ever since your father has left and for that, you'd be forever grateful.

So here you stand with him as he's about to give you away to... well, his son.

"More than I've ever been."

- - -

Three Years Later California October 2023 {25}

"So it's final?" You ask as you climb into bed beside him. Jonah nods with his eyes closed, his head thrown back and against the headboard. "Are you okay?" You take his hand into yours and give it a tight squeeze.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Past seven years I've spent with the guys. I know we've all thought about it a few times, especially Daniel, Corbyn and I with families and all. But I feel like it's happening so soon."

"I think it's good," you spoke your thoughts aloud. "You all deserve time off, like you said, it's been seven years."

"I didn't think I could do another world tour," he admits. "Leaving you and the kids was painful last year."

"So do you know who's going solo and who isn't?" You ask, curiously. You knew of Jonah's wishes. You'd know that after the break with Why Don't We that he'd want some time away from everything. He's spoken to you about it before.

"We all are, eventually," Jonah finally opens his eyes and makes contact with yours. "Daniel, with a newborn and all, is doing what I am. Waiting a bit before we dive into it all again."

"How long do you think that'll be?"

"I don't know for now," he shrugged. "Maybe when Eli and Edith go to school?"

"School?" Your eyes widen with a smile. "That's two years away."

"What, do you think I should start sooner?" His eyebrows furrow.

"No, no," you shake your head. "I think it's a wonderful idea. Two years is plenty of time."

"Yeah," he smiles. "More time with you and the kids. And I can write from home."

"Are you guys going to do a final show? For the fans and everything."

"Yeah," he runs a hand through his hair. "The last one will be here in L.A, next month. All of our families will be there."

"I can't wait. I think it's brilliant, Jonah," you lean forward and place your lips on his, feeling his smile in the midst of it. When you pull away, Jonah brings a hand up and cups your cheek.

"I love you," he mumbles.

"I know," you grin and he rolls his eyes with a smile before sitting up and connecting your lips once more. When his hand falls to your waist, you detach your lips with a shake of the head.

"Uh-uh, I've got work to do," you say and he groans, throwing his head back and knocking it against the headboard. "Oh get over it, we had our fun two nights ago."

"Exactly. Two nights ago," he sulks. "The kids are asleep, we've got time."

With a roll of the eyes, you slide off of the bed and grab lotion from the nightstand before tossing it into his lap.

"Have fun, I'll be in the office."

"You're tearing me apart, Lisa," he imitated Tommy Wiseau.

"Drama Queen."

- - -

"Honey, we're home," Jonah states a cliche as he walks through the front door with Edith and Elijah on his heels.

"Honey, we're home!" The twins imitate their father, cups of smoothies in their small hands.

"And we've got smoothies and food!" Jonah declares as they all walk into the office. You spin in your chair as Elijah walks up to you with his straw in his mouth and tugs on your pants, silently asking to be placed on your lap.

You lift up the boy and kiss his cheek before ruffling his soft hair.

"Here you go, Babe," Jonah hands you your smoothie and you thank him.

"You guys have fun with Daddy?" You ask, jolting your right leg once.

"Yeah," Edith grins as Elijah nods, more focused on sucking the smoothie through the straw. "We saw Mara!" Edith adds.

"Yeah, she texted me," you chuckle.

"She was with Cyrus and they were actually talking about having a baby," Jonah informs you and your eyebrows raise.

"Really? That's wonderful!"

"I want a baby," Edith says and Jonah's heart leaped out of his chest for a quick moment.

"No, you don't," he frowns.

"Yes!" Edith nods before rushing out of the office and you could hear the stomps of her small feet against the wooden stairs.

"Your sister is crazy," you nudge Elijah's side and he nodded once again.

"I'm gonna go set these out," Jonah lifts the Tropical Smoothie bag filled with sandwiches. "Oh, and the restaurant called, we've got our reservations."

"Really?" You grin.

"Mhm. We're on for nine, baby."

"Oh, thank God. I've been wanting a reason to dress up for a while, now," you gush.

"You know you can dress up for me," he winks.

"Oh, hush," you roll your eyes with a smile.

He lets out a chuckle before walking out and towards the kitchen, leaving you and Elijah.

"Want to go play?" You ask Elijah, but he shakes his head which is of no surprise to you. He's been clingy since the day he was born.

"Wanna stay," he says after pulling his lips from the straw, resting his head back against your chest.

"We're going to the kitchen," you inform him, shifting him in your lap so he faces you before placing him on the floor and taking his hand into yours. You both head to the kitchen and you place him on a stool at the counter island as Jonah unwraps the sandwiches.

"Daddy! Mommy!"

You both turn and see Edith walking into the kitchen with two of her baby dolls in her hands.

"Babies! For Mara," she holds one up.

You laugh at the sight.

"She wants her own baby, Edith. A real one," you explain, swooping down and lifting her up before placing her on a stool, as well.

"I get a real one?" Edith asks.

"You're too little for a real one," you shake your head. "When you're older you can."

"No, you can't ever have a baby," Jonah jokes and Edith frowns.

"Mommy said."

"Fine. When you're fifty you can have a baby," he says.

Edith grins, not familiar with how things work.

"I want one," Elijah claims.

"You can both have babies when you're fifty. Now, are we done? I don't like this conversation."

"Mommy, can you have a baby?" Elijah ignores his father.

You glance at Jonah, who was staring back at you.

"Eventually, within some given time?" you say, more-so ask, observing Jonah's face for any expression that'd reveal his thoughts.

"Yeah," he nods, making you smile. "Not soon, but Mommy'll have another baby."

"A girl?" Edith asks.

"A boy?" Elijah knits his eyebrows.

"We can't choose that," you run your hands over Edith and Elijah's hair.

"We can, actually, it's just a lot of money," Jonah chuckles.

"Call us old-fashioned, but we like all natural," you joke with Jonah, knowing that the kids wouldn't exactly understand.

"Daddy, I want to eat," Elijah changes the subject.

"Here you go," Jonah slides them both their cuts of the sand which before giving you your own and placing his on a plate. You all eat and the conversation changes to firetrucks before also changing to flip-flops. During it all, you're texting the babysitter, asking for her to watch the twins tonight.

"Yes," you dance in your seat.

"What?" Jonah raises a single eyebrow.

"Mila can babysit tonight," you cheer and he fist pumps the air.

"No," Elijah whines and your smile drops. Edith never had a problem with Mila babysitting mainly because they watched cartoons and ate at the living room coffee table, but Elijah was an entirely different story. He didn't like that neither you or Jonah were in the next room and he never talked much when being babysat.

"We're not going to be gone for long, Bud," Jonah assured him, but the look of discomfort never left Elijah's face.

"I wanna come," he pouts.

"You're going to have fun here with Mila and Edith," you give him a smile and he huffs in response.

Three hours later, you're in a dress and Jonah's decked out in a suit. Your hair is styled exactly how you want it and you're excited to spend quality time with your husband and soulmate.

"Mommy, you're a princess," Edith grins at your from her father's arms as you walk down the steps.

"Thank you, baby," you say when you get to the first floor. "Where's my other baby?"

"In his room sulking," Jonah replied and you let out a sigh.

"Elijah! Come say bye to Mommy and Daddy!" You cup your hands over your mouth and call to your son. A few moments pass before he's walking down the stairs with the help of the railing. He looked upset and you felt guilty. When he reached the bottom step, he raised his arms and you lifted him up, placing a long kiss on his cheek and leaving a red lip print from your lipstick. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he mumbles, resting his head on your shoulder.

"You're going to have fun with Mila, 'Lijah," Jonah said. "We'll be back before you know it."

"Don't you want Mommy and Daddy to have fun?" You bounce him once on your hip and he slowly nods. "If you don't cry, you and Edith can sleep in our bed tonight."

Both Edith and Elijah perked up at that. The twins loved sleeping in you and Jonah's bed, waking up beside you both being one of their favorite things ever.

"Okay," Elijah nods.

"Eli, don't cry," Edith points at her brother as Jonah places her on the ground and you do the same to Elijah.

"I'm not!" He stomps his foot once he's on the floor.

"Thank you, Mila," Jonah turned to the hallway archway, where Mila was standing.

"Oh, it's no problem," Mila shook her head. "I love watching these two." Edith ran up to the twenty-year-old woman.

"We'll be back around eleven. Behave, you two," you point at the twins.

"Mila, cartoons!" Edith took Mila's hand and began pulling her into the family room as Elijah leaned on the wall with a frown.

"Bye," you wave at your frowning son as Jonah opens the door and gestures for you to walk out.

"Bye," he huffs.

- - -

One Month Later California November 2023

"As many of you know, this will be our last show for a while," Daniel speaks into his microphone, making the arena seating over 20,000 go crazy.

"We've decided to take a break," Jack is the next to say. "And we thank you all for your support in our decision."

"You've all been here for us throughout our career and for that, we thank you from the bottom of our gigantic hearts," Jonah smiles, holding a hand up to his heart.

"This is the last song we're performing," Corbyn says and the crowd goes wild once again. "And we want you all to scream as loud as you can, whether you know the words or not."

"You guys ready?" Zach places his hands on his hips, causing another roar to erupt from the people watching.

The guys all nod, the smiles on their faces never washing away.

The song’s instrumentals began and Jonah makes eye contact with you from the first row, you and the rest of the guys' families and friends being guarded by security guards and tape.

You carried Edith while her head was on your shoulder, the noise canceling headphones blocking the sound of the arena from her ears.

Elijah smiled at the sight of his dad on stage while he sits on Tyler, Daniel's older brother's shoulders, headphones on his head as well.

Nearly halfway through the final song, Jonah bent down at the edge of the stage and whispered something to one of the guards, who made eye contact with you. The rest of the guys then did the same and before you knew it, you and everyone else was being ushered into the stage.

Jonah took Edith from your arms and Tyler put Elijah on the floor in front of you.

Daniel took his two-month-old son into his arms and swayed him back and forth, singing his heart out to his child while Corbyn danced with his one-year-old daughter while everybody else had the time of their lives on stage.

During the last line, you saw tears falling down many of the fans' faces, and the guys had glossy eyes, too.

"Say bye to everybody," Corbyn held up Genevieve to the mic.

"Bye," she waved, making you laugh at how adorable she was.

"And we are Why Don't We!" The Guys all shout before walking off of the stage, leaving the audience in actual shambles.

- - -

Two Years Later California September 2025 {27}

"Jonah! Jonah!" You shout, racing down the stairs.

"Wh-what? Hey, be careful, don't run," Jonah catches you in his arms after you run into him. "Were you crying?" He asks when taking a full observation of your face.

"It's Chrissy!"

"What? Is she okay?"

"She's perfect! She just found her soulmate!" You squeal, jumping in his arms.

"Really?" His eyes widen with a smile. "That's amazing! What happened? Where did they meet?"

"She was in Hong Kong when they met," you explain excitedly. Chrissy was a travel nurse and thirty-one years old. She never believed that she'd find her soulmate and being that she finally did made you ecstatic.

"I'm so happy for her," he grinned. "And she always thought she'd never find a soulmate."

"She just called me and she was crying and then I started crying and-" your words shoot out as fast as a rocket, your sister's happiness bringing such joy to you. "This is all she's ever wanted and I always felt bad because I found you at such a young age."

"Is she bringing her soulmate back to America?"

"I really don't think so, to be honest," you shrug. "She already loves it there and she's even mentioned moving there before all of this, so she might just stay."

"You're okay with that?"

"I'm more than okay with that!" You grin and he smiles at how happy you are.

"Good," he kisses your forehead. "What did I say about running? Especially down the stairs, you could've fell and squashed our little bug." He pokes your baby-carrying stomach.

"I won't do it again," you assure him. "I was just so happy. It reminds me of how happy I was at your first song release party," you mention when he had released his first song as a solo artist a yea prior.

"You sure know how to make everything about me," he shakes his head, a coy smile on his lips.

"I'm just so proud of you. Everybody is doing great and it makes me so happy," you tell him as tears start leaking out of the side of your eyes. "Chrissy finally found her soulmate, Mara just had her third child, your music video hit three hundred views on YouTube and over six hundred million listeners, we're having another baby," you ramble, a sob escaping your throat.

"Hormones?"

"Hormones," you nod, wiping the tears away.

Jonah lets out a laugh and kisses your cheek before leading you to the kitchen.

Edith and Elijah, both five now, sat at the breakfast nook while stuffing their faces with waffles and syrup.

"Watch your uniforms," you place napkins in the collar of both of their shirts.

"Daddy made waffles, but not the toaster way," Elijah said just before shoving another forkful into his mouth, getting syrup against the sides of his mouth.

"Oh really?" You raise your eyebrows, walking over to the plate of waffles and taking one yourself. "Daddy's quite the chef, isn't he?"

Jonah's always been the better cook of the household, forming things from scratch rather than making the frozen version. You were the exact opposite.

"It's better than Mommy's frozen waffles, right?" Jonah sends you a wink and you glare back.

"I like Mommy's, too," Elijah shakes his head.

"Yeah, me, too," Edith agreed with her brother and you sent Jonah a cheeky smile.

"You can't turn my kids against me," you hit the back of his head as you walk past him.

"You guys see how Mommy hits me?" Jonah held a hand up to his heart.

"You said her waffles tasted bad," Edith countered and you sent Jonah a look.

"Why can't you guys ever take my side?" He throws his head back.

"They do take your side," you laugh. "When I'm not here."

Jonah gives you a look before going back to eating his own breakfast. You reach over and grab a strawberry from his plate.

"You're lucky I love you," he shakes his head and you give him another toothy grin.

When the kids finish eating, Jonah wipes their mouths with a damp cloth and you start to clean up the kitchen.

Jonah moves to stand behind you as you wash a few dishes, wrapping his arms around your waist. His hands land on your stomach as he pecks your neck.

"How's our little Erin doing?" He asks.

"She's doing great," you smile, turning off the faucet and turning in his hold. "Another four months to go."

"Three girls and two boys," he sighs. "We're going to be overthrown, 'Lijah."

"Huh?" Elijah furrows his eyebrows.

"Mommy's having another girl, so it's just going to be us boys against them," Jonah elaborates.

"Girls are better," Edith sings as she drags her bag off of one of the stools.

"Girls and boys are both awesome," you shake your head.

"Can she watch movies with us?" Elijah asked.

"Of course."

"Then she's cool," he concludes and you and Jonah both chuckle.

"Say bye to Mommy and your future baby sister," Jonah departs from you and swoops up Elijah from the ground, holding him in front of you. Elijah giggles and kisses your cheek before Jonah lowers him so that he could kiss your stomach. He then placed Elijah back on the ground and did the same to Edith.

"Have fun at school," you laugh, shaking your head at Jonah's way for the kids to say bye.

"Love you, Mommy," Edith calls as Jonah ushers them out of the kitchen.

"Love you!" Elijah yells.

"Love you, too," you call as they turn the corner. Jonah brings them to the front and places them into their own driver's car.

Jonah walked back in five minutes later and caught you digging a spoon into the cartoon of marshmallow fluff.

He crossed his arms and raised both eyebrows as you froze.

"Hey," you slowly brought the treat behind your back.

"I want to believe that it's the cravings but we both know we'd be in the same situation if you weren't pregnant," he reasons and you shrug, agreeing with him.

"Yeah, basically," you couldn't deny.

"Make way, I want some, too," he walks up to you and you grin while pulling it out from behind you. He grabs another spoon and scoops out a cloud of the very bad fluff.

"You know what would go better with this?" You hum. "Blueberry donuts and apple pie."

"There the cravings are."

- - -

One Year Later California December 2026 {28}

"Help Erin unwrap her gift," you tell the twins as you sit on the floor, a video camera in your hands.

Elijah and Edith sit beside heir eleven-month-old younger sister and tear apart the very tall present for her.

"What is it?" Edith asks after they finish peaking the wrap off.

"It's a tent from Nini," you explain your mother's gift for the toddler.

"Erin, it's a tent," Edith says, helping the little one stand.

"Ah," Erin babbles, hitting the box with both hands.

"She doesn't know what it is, Mommy," Edith laughs and you smile with a shake of the head.

"Open something else," you instruct.

"Why don't you open something?" Jonah asks as he walks into the room with a tray holding mugs of hot chocolate with the exception of Erin's spout cup. "'Lijah, take the camera and put it on Mommy."

Jonah places the tray on the coffee table and grabs a present from under the tree with your name on it. He hands it to you and takes a seat beside Elijah, making sure the camera was focused on you.

"From Santa," you chortle, sending Jonah a look. He subtly winks with a smug look.

You unwrap it and pull out a black shoe box, furrowing your eyebrows and looking towards Jonah once again.

When you slowly open it, your eyes widen.

"Oh, my," you gape at the Yves Saint Laurent shoes inside of the box, pulling one out with a shock-struck face.

"Those are pretty, Mommy," Edith peers into the box.

"Santa really likes you," Jonah smirks.

"That's because Mommy is nice all of the year," Elijah elaborates.

"That must be it," Jonah nodded and you almost threw the shoe at him because of his smug looks.

"Why doesn't Daddy open a present?" You ask, taking the camera and focusing it on your husband.

"This one is from Mommy," Edith grabs one from under the tree and hands it to her father before sitting back down.

"Holy hell," Jonah gasps after he gets through all of the wrapping paper.

"What is it?" Elijah asks.

"It's Mommy and Daddy's mandala," Jonah turns the frame around. "Made by pictures of us. How many photos is this? Oh my God, did you do this?"

"Yeah, Karima helped me," you nod with a grin. "It took a few months, to be honest."

"This is amazing, Baby," he makes his way towards you and pulls you into his arms. You move the camera away form in between you both and Elijah takes it from your hand. "I love it, thank you."

"It was fun making," you smile, pulling away and kissing his lips.

"I really love it," he genuinely says, kissing you once again.

"That's Mommy and Daddy being gross," Elijah tells the camera, recording you two.

You and Jonah laugh, turning to Elijah and Edith who stare at you two with scrunched noses.

"Gimme that," you take the camera back from Elijah. "Keep opening your gifts. There's a lot more."

"C'mere, Erin," Jonah spreads his arms out and Erin waddles his way, falling into his arms with a giggle. "Pass me some of Erin's things," he tells the twins and they do as he says.

"What's that, Edith?" You focus the video camera on her as she unwraps.

"It's a microphone!" Edith squeals, jumping up and down with happiness.

"Did you read who it's from?" You ask.

"Yeah! Thank you, Daddy!" She runs up to him and wraps her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek.

"You're welcome, baby," he kisses her cheek in response before she goes to analyze her new microphone more. Edith loved singing, taking after her father, and she was even learning how to play both the piano and guitar.

The remaining day was spent eating food that Jonah had prepared and watching movies in the family room. Edith and Elijah played around with their new toys on the floor while Erin ate chicken from a napkin on your lap.

The night ended with kids in yours and Jonah's bed, all three of your children sleeping beneath the covers while you and Jonah are in your bathroom.

You sit on the counter, brushing your teeth, while Jonah washed his face.

"This was our first Christmas in Cali and not Stillwater," Jonah said as he wiped a dry towel over his wet face.

"Yeah, it's weird, but I like it," you purse your lips.

"Yeah, me too."

After spitting toothpaste out, you remember something. "I can't believe they're already learning about mandalas," you sigh.

"I know, right," Jonah chuckles. "All Edith will talk about if finding hers."

"They're at the age we found each other," you grin, pulling the sleeve of your shirt down and revealing the very large mandala on your shoulder. "I remember when it was just a dot."

"Me, too," he turned and lifted his shirt up, showing his larger version of the exact same mandala you both had inked on your bodies. You reach forward and trace it for a few seconds before pulling your hand away. He drops his shirt and turns back around, sighing and walking in between your legs.

"I'm glad you're my soulmate," you place your toothbrush in the holder and take his hand into yours.

"I'd rather no one over you," he whispered, squeezing your hand. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Masterlist | Talk to Me

Tag List: @maddie-leighhh @my-otpkilledme @heyowdw @duh-danii @thefangirlingmaster @lyssaholic @prettylittlesheerio @jackaverysboo @lilheavfuhyobih @babyybesson @guadalupeguac @sunshineavery @melodramonica @jackaverybabe @lovableherron @adoring-avery @deni-gonzalez @ciariamarie27 @therealmrshale @strangenerdsstuff @this-is-what-dreamz-are-made-of

[powerdragonmoon]

📵 Missed Call📱

After another akuma attack, Nino is shocked to find himself visited that night by one of Paris’ newest heroes, Rena Rouge.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @qookyquiche!!!!! 🎈🎂💖 WISHING YOU ALL THE BEST WISHES AND HOPE YOU HAVE A LOVELY BEAUTIFUL DAY!!!!! 

This piece is based on wooky’s amazing art of what i call DJ Rouge! (Click here to see the beauty!) 

(ao3 link)

“Well?” She whispered, leaning in closer… too close. Nino balked, flinching away until his back hit the wall, trapping him.

He gulped.

“Did you miss me?” She purred and immediately Nino could feel his cheeks flushing as Rena Rouge inched closer. Without even realizing it, he felt himself lean in, caught in her eyes, mesmerized by the seductive curve of her lips, and utterly transfixed as a clawed hand reached forward, lifting his chin up.

He answered her with a gasp, watching as her hair swung over her shoulder, long and loose, out of her trademark ponytail. Its white tips glowed just like her eyes, lit up in the glow of the dim moonlight and the brightness of his tablet screen. Everything about her was vibrant, the deeps reds of her hair, the bright orange of her suit. Delicately, her clawed hand plucked off his glasses, while her other tipped the brim of his hat back, allowing her the extra space to move in even closer. She was so close that her nose touched his and Nino could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin.

“You know,” she purred and he watched as her eyes flicked to downwards as she licked her lips, “I didn’t get a thank you after saving you earlier…”

She was so close that Nino could feel the whisper of her lips on his, and he felt his eyes close as he almost moved into close to meet her. But then a sudden flash of very similar eyes stood out in his mind, eyes that glowed behind a pair of glasses instead of a mask, and his heart stopped.

Nino panicked, a voice in the back of his head screamed and he said the first thing that popped into his head, grimacing at the sudden crack in his voice.

“I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!”

They both froze.

Nino’s hat fell to the ground and silence flooded the room. Eventually Rena Rouge pulled away, her fox ears twitching slightly and Nino embarrassingly cleared his throat. A look of confusion passed over her, before her eyes narrowed suspiciously as if she could see straight through him. Nino tried his best to stay perfectly still. He felt like prey cornered by predator. It was as if his instinct was telling him that if he didn’t move she wouldn’t be able to see him, even though logic told him otherwise.

Still, he held his breath.

“Who?” she asked blatantly, as she straightened up, standing tall above him. Her hands settled on the curve of her hips and Nino could feel the sweat collecting on the back of his neck. Without his glasses she was a bit of a blur, but even then Nino could sense her anger.

“W-who?” Nino asked tentatively.

“Who is your girlfriend?” she stared at him expectantly, awaiting his answer.

He swallowed, his mind immediately flashing to Alya, the girl he wished he could call his girlfriend. However even after a poorly executed attempt to date Marinette turned into a very meaningful bonding moment with Alya, the pair now seemed stuck in this awkward spot, stuck between friendship and something more. All that was needed was for them to take that step forward but it was a step that Nino found himself flinching away at all the wrong moments.

Except for this one it seemed.

“Alya,” he sputtered, his eyes widening in shock at his own words. “A-Alya Cesaire.”

The room was suddenly silent once more.

That same look of bewilderment passed over, before ever so slowly a smile curved along her lips. Rena Rouge arched a brow as she stepped forward once more, and with the swiftness of a fox, she pressed a quick and soft kiss on his cheek before placing his glasses back on his face.

Nino barely had time to process the action, his world becoming suddenly clearer yet much more confusing as she stepped away. He felt the blush along his skin as he watched her step away. With one leg propped against his window, Rena Rouge glanced back at him with that same sly smile on her face.

His heart pounded in his chest.

“I’m sad to hear I have competition…” she shrugged, before winking. “But if I had to lose you to someone, I couldn’t think of anyone better than my favourite reporter!” And then with a mock salute, she spoke once more before jumping out into the night. “See you later, DJ!”

And once again his room fell into silence. The only source of light coming from the screen of his tablet.

“Oh crap…” Nino finally whispered to himself after a few moments had passed. That sly look Rena Rouge had sent his way before her departure was still stuck in his head. And yet the only thing he could think of with guilt was Alya… his friend. The girl he fell in love with stuck in a zoo cage, her tenaciousness and bravery keeping him calm through each akuma attack even when he panicked when she ran head first towards them. The girl who ran the Ladyblog, and who always had the latest scoop thanks to her contact with one of Paris’ newest heroes, Rena Rouge.

Nino sat up, his tablet falling to the ground as he realized his mistake. Surely, Rena Rouge wouldn’t tell Alya… would she?

He thought about Alya and her extensive questions, about her determination to get to the bottom of every story.

“I NEED TO PHONE ALYA!!” he yelped, reaching for his phone. He didn’t even notice as his abandoned tablet wobbled on the floor before a flashed of green phased through it revealing a small green creature.

“Ahhh,” the creature sighed, rubbing his head as his antennae wobbled in discomfort. Nino however missed kwami’s reappearance as he listened in agony to the unanswered ring on his phone. He paced around his room, nervously wondering how a girl whose hand was practically glued to her phone at all times could miss his call. When Alya’s voicemail message began to play out, he grimaced.

“It’s your girl, Alya,” her voice sang into his ear and Nino wished nothing more than to be able to call her his. “I can’t take your call at the moment, I’m probably out looking for the latest scoop! Check me out on the Ladyblog! Or leave a message and I’ll get right back to you! Later!”

Nino sighed, his hand reaching up to rub against his face, caught up in the cuteness of her voicemail message and his frustrations and worries.

“I’m so screwed!” Nino finally cried in defeat. Then when he remembered the beep for to leave a voicemail had already gone off, he screamed, throwing his phone across the room.

“Young Master, it’s fine, just tell the girl your feelings! This is the perfect motivation for you to confess!”

“What!?” Nino’s voice cracked once more. “CONFESS!?!? I CAN’T CONFESS TO ALYA! WHAT?? JUST PHONE HER UP AND TELL HER THAT I LOVE HER?!? ARE YOU CRAZY!”

“No, in fact, I think I’m being perfectly rational, Young Master.”

“DUDE! STOP CALLING ME THAT, I AM STRESSED!”

“Well,” the kwami smiled, “if I were you I would be more stressed about that phone recording our conversation.”

Nino followed Wayzz’s green eyed glance to his phone on his bed. It’s screen was lit up showing an ongoing call, with Alya’s contact photo displayed.

He screamed once more, jumping face first onto his bed and belly flopping atop the mattress. Wayzz chuckled as he followed, swooping down to lie upon Nino’s bedside table for a better view.

Frazzled, Nino ended the call, letting out a breath of relief before he processed what had happened.

With another yelp, he sat back up, flailing and falling out of his bed before eventually, and not so gracefully, finding his feet back under him as he dialed a different number on his phone. He walked across his room, reaching for the light switch before he heard a familiar voice answer on his call.

“Hello?”

“Mari,” he replied, not even thinking about the need for pleasantries, “I need your help.”

A soft gasp sounded. “What is it Nino? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” Nino reassured her, even as he Nino shook his head. “I just need your help.”

“Of course! What is it?”

Nino paused, trying his best to collect what little strength and courage he had. He glanced down at the bracelet on his wrist before nodding resolutely.

“I need to steal a phone.”